THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 
SIR   HENRY  MORTON  STANLEY 


^      OFTH, 

UNIVERSITY 

or 


>-*C-y-.~:  --v  - 


&  ■  //  /  //   -    //.  bfandey,  /&£ '. 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 


OF 


tr  ilmrp  JWorton 


G.C.B. 

D.C.L.  (Oxford  and  Durham),    LL.D.  (Cambridge  and   Edinburgh),  etc.;  Doctor  of 

Philosophy  of  the  University  of  Halle  ;  Honorary  Member  of  The  Royal  Geographical 

Society,  and  the  Geographical  Societies  of  The  Royal   Scottish,  Manchester, 

etc.  ;   Gold   Medallist  of   the    Royal   Geographical   Society   of   London; 

Gold  Medallist  of  Paris,  Italy,  Sweden,  and  Antwerp  Geographical 

Societies,  etc. ;  Grand  Cordon  of  the  Medjidie  ;  Grand  Commander 

of  the  Osmanlie  ;  Grand  Cordon  of  the  Order  of  the  Congo; 

Grand  Commander   of  the  Order  of   Leopold ;    Star  of 

Zanzibar;   Star  of  Service  on  the  Congo;  etc.,  etc.  "• 


EDITED  BY  HIS  WIFE 

DOROTHY  STANLEY 


WITH  SIXTEEN  PIIOTOGRA  VURES 
AND  A  MAP 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON    MIFFLIN    COMPANY 

Clje  Ettocrsttse  press  Cambrt&se 

1909 


REESE 

C 


COPYRIGHT,    I909,   BY   DOROTHY   STANLEY 
ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 

Published  October,  iqoq 


)4tf7  0  J 


EDITOR'S    PREFACE 

IN  giving  to  the  world  this  Autobiography  of  my  husband's 
early  years,  I  am  carrying  out  his  wishes.  Unfortunately, 
the  Autobiography  was  left  unfinished.  I  am,  however, 
able  to  give  very  full  extracts  from  his  journals,  letters,  and 
private  note-books,  in  which,  day  by  day,  he  jotted  down 
observations  and  reflections. 

My  best  introduction  is  the  following  passage  from  a  letter 
he  wrote  to  me  on  November  30,  1893 :  — 

1 1  should  like  to  write  out  a  rough  draft,  as  it  were,  of  my 
life.  The  polishing  could  take  care  of  itself,  or  you  could  do  it, 
when  the  time  comes.  Were  I  suddenly  to  be  called  away, 
how  little,  after  all,  the  world  would  know  of  me !  My  African 
life  has  been  fairly  described,  but  only  as  it  affected  those 
whom  I  served,  or  those  who  might  be  concerned.  The  inner 
existence,  the  me,  what  does  anybody  know  of  ?  nay,  you  may 
well  ask,  what  do  I  know?  But,  granted  that  I  know  little 
of  my  real  self,  still,  I  am  the  best  evidence  for  myself.  And 
though,  when  I  have  quitted  this  world,  it  will  matter  no- 
thing to  me  what  people  say  of  me,  up  to  the  moment  of  death 
we  should  strive  to  leave  behind  us  something  which  can 
either  comfort,  amuse,  instruct,  or  benefit  the  living;  and 
though  I  cannot  do  either,  except  in  a  small  degree,  even  that 
little  should  be  given. 

'Just  endeavour  to  imagine  yourself  in  personal  view  of  all 
the  poor  boys  in  these  islands,  English,  Scotch,  Welsh,  and 
Irish,  and  also  all  the  poor  boys  in  Canada,  the  States,  and 
our  Colonies ;  regarding  them  as  we  regard  those  in  the  schools 
we  visit  in  Lambeth,  or  at  Cadoxton,  we  would  see  some  hun- 
dreds, perhaps  thousands,  to  whom  we  would  instinctively 
turn,  and  wish  we  had  the  power  to  say  something  that  would 
encourage  them  in  their  careers. 

'That  is  just  how  I  feel.  Not  all  who  hear  are  influenced  by 
precept,  and  not  all  who  see,  change  because  of  example.  But 
as  I  am  not  singular  in  anything  that  I  know  of,  there  must 


vi  EDITOR'S   PREFACE 

be  a  goodly  number  of  boys  who  are  penetrable,  and  it  is  for 
these  penetrable  intelligences,  and  assimilative  organizations, 
that  I  would  care  to  leave  the  truthful  record  of  my  life.  For 
I  believe  the  story  of  my  efforts,  struggles,  sufferings,  and 
failures,  of  the  work  done,  and  the  work  left  undone,  —  I  be- 
lieve this  story  would  help  others.  If  my  life  had  been  merely 
frivolous,  a  life  of  purposeless  drifting,  why,  then  silence  were 
better.  But  it  has  not  been  so,  and  therefore  my  life  can  teach 
some  lessons,  and  give  encouragement  to  others.' 

The  pathos  of  this  Autobiography  lies  in  the  deprivations 
and  denials  of  those  early  years,  here  recorded  for  the  first 
time.  Yet  these  sufferings,  as  he  came  to  realise,  were  shaping 
and  fitting  him  for  the  great  work  he  was  to  perform ;  and  his 
training  and  experiences  were  perhaps  the  finest  a  man  could 
have  had,  since,  day  by  day,  he  was  being  educated  for  the 
life  that  lay  before  him.   Stanley  writes :  — 

'It  can  be  understood  how  invaluable  such  a  career  and 
such  a  training,  with  its  compulsory  lessons,  was  to  me,  as  a 
preparation  for  the  tremendous  tasks  which  awaited  me.' 

A  boy  of  intense  and  passionate  feelings,  the  longing  for 
home,  love,  friends,  and  encouragement,  at  times  amounted 
to  pain ;  yet  all  these  natural  blessings  were  denied  him ;  he 
received  no  affection  from  parents,  no  shelter  of  home,  no 
kindness  or  help  of  friends,  excepting  from  his  adopted  father, 
who  died  soon  after  befriending  the  lonely  boy.  Baffled  and 
bruised  at  every  turn,  yet  'the  strong  pulse  of  youth  vindi- 
cates its  right  to  gladness,  even  here/  Orphaned,  homeless, 
friendless,  destitute,  he  nevertheless  was  rich  in  self-reliance 
and  self-control,  with  a  trust  in  God  which  never  failed  him. 
And  so  Stanley  grew  to  greatness,  a  greatness  which  cannot 
be  fully  measured  by  his  contemporaries.  As  a  key  to  Stanley's 
life,  it  may  be  mentioned  that  one  of  his  earliest  and  dearest 
wishes,  often  expressed  to  me  in  secret,  was,  by  his  personal 
character  and  the  character  of  his  work  in  every  stage  of  his 
career,  to  obliterate  the  stigma  of  pauperism  which  had  been 
so  deeply  branded  into  his  very  soul  by  the  Poor-Law  methods, 
and  which  in  most  cases  is  so  lifelong  in  its  blasting  effects 
on  those  who  would  strive  to  rise,  ever  so  little,  from  such 
a  Slough  of  Despond.  So  that,  when  he  had  achieved  fame  as 
an  explorer,  he  craved,  far  more  than  this,  a  recognition  by  the 


EDITOR'S    PREFACE  vii 

English  and  American  Public  of  the  high  endeavour  which 
was  the  result  of  a  real  nobility  of  character  and  aim. 

The  ungenerous  conduct  displayed  towards  Stanley  by  a 
portion  of  the  Press  and  Public  would  have  been  truly  extra- 
ordinary, but  for  the  historical  treatment  of  Columbus  and 
other  great  explorers  into  the  Unknown.  Stanley  was  not  only 
violently  attacked  on  his  return  from  every  expedition,  but 
it  was,  for  instance,  insinuated  that  he  had  not  discovered 
Livingstone,  while  some  even  dared  to  denounce,  as  forgeries, 
the  autograph  letters  brought  home  from  Livingstone  to  his 
children,  notwithstanding  their  own  assurance  to  the  contrary. 
This  reception  produced,  therefore,  a  bitter  disappointment, 
only  to  be  appreciated  by  the  reader  when  he  has  completed 
this  survey  of  Stanley's  splendid  personality. 

That  Stanley  sought  no  financial  benefit  by  exploiting 
Africa,  as  he  might  legitimately  have  done,  is  borne  out  by  the 
fact  that  instead  of  becoming  a  multi-millionaire,  as  the  result 
of  his  vast  achievements,  and  his  unique  influence  with  the 
native  chiefs,  the  actual  sources  of  his  income  were  almost 
entirely  literary.   This  is  indicated  in  the  text. 

Accepting  Free  Trade  as  a  policy,  the  blindness  of  the  Brit- 
ish Nation  to  the  value  of  additional  colonies,  and  the  indiffer- 
ence, not  only  of  successive  Governments,  but  of  the  various 
Chambers  of  Commerce,  and  the  industrial  community  gen- 
erally, whose  business  instincts  might  have  been  expected  to 
develop  greater  foresight,  was  a  source  of  the  deepest  concern 
and  disappointment  to  Stanley ;  for  it  meant  the  loss  to  Eng- 
land both  of  the  whole  of  the  present  Congo  Free  State,  and, 
later,  of  the  monopoly  of  the  Congo  Railway,  now  one  of  the 
most  profitable  in  the  world.  The  determined  opposition  for 
long  exhibited  to  the  acquisition  of  Uganda  and  British  East 
Africa  was  also,  for  a  time,  a  great  anxiety  to  him. 

It  may  also  be  pointed  out  here  that  all  that  is  now  German 
East  Africa  was  explored  and  opened  up  to  commerce  and 
civilisation  by  British  explorers,  Livingstone,  Burton,  Speke, 
and  Stanley.  Thus  England  threw  away  what  individual 
Empire-builders  had  won  for  the  realm.  The  obvious  advant- 
ages and  paramount  necessity  to  a  Free-Trade  country  of 
having  vast  new  markets  of  its  own  are  sufficiently  apparent, 
whatever  views  are  held  on  the  difficult  Fiscal  Question. 


viii  EDITOR'S    PREFACE 

Canon  Hensley  Henson,  in  1907,  preached  a  remarkable 
sermon  at  St.  Margaret's  Church,  Westminster,  on  St.  Paul ; 
and  the  following  passage  struck  me  as  being,  in  some  respects, 
not  inapplicable  to  Stanley :  — 

'St.  Paul,  in  after  years,  when  he  could  form  some  estimate 
of  the  effect  of  his  vision,  came  to  think  that  it  represented  the 
climax  of  a  long  course  of  Providential  action ;  his  ancestry, 
character,  training,  experiences,  seemed  to  him,  in  retrospect, 
so  wonderfully  adapted  to  the  work  which  he  had  been  led  to 
undertake,  that  he  felt  compelled  to  ascribe  all  to  the  over- 
ruling Providence  of  God ;  that  no  less  a  Power  than  God 
Himself  had  been  active  in  his  life ;  and  the  singular  congruity 
of  his  earlier  experiences  with  the  requirements  of  his  later 
work,  confirmed  the  impression.' 

'Such  men,'  wrote  the  Rev.  \V.  Hughes,  Missionary  on  the 
Congo,  'as  Dr.  Livingstone  and  Henry  M.  Stanley,  who  went 
to  Africa  to  prepare  the  way  and  open  up  that  vast  and 
wealthy  country,  that  the  light  of  civilisation  and  the  Gospel 
might  enter  therein,  are  men  created  for  their  work,  set  apart, 
and  sent  out  by  Divine  Providence,  which  over-rules  every- 
thing that  it  may  promote  the  good  of  man,  and  show  forth 
His  own  glory.  No  one  who  has  always  lived  in  a  civilised 
country  can  conceive  what  these  two  men  have  accomplished.' 

The  following  striking  picture  of  Stanley,  from  an  article  in 
'Blackwood's  Magazine,'  may  well  be  given  here:  — 

'If  the  history  of  modern  discovery  has  a  moment  com- 
parable for  dramatic  interest  to  that  in  which  Columbus 
turned  his  prow  westward,  and  sailed  into  space,  to  link  for 
ever  the  destinies  of  two  hemispheres,  it  is  the  one  in  which  a 
roving  white  man,  in  the  far  heart  of  Africa,  set  his  face  down 
the  current  of  a  mighty  river,  and  committed  himself  to  its 
waters,  determined,  for  weal  or  woe,  to  track  their  course  to 
the  sea.  The  Genoese  navigator,  indeed,  who  divined  and 
dared  an  unknown  world,  staked  the  whole  future  of  humanity 
on  his  bold  intuition,  but  posterity  may  one  day  trace  results 
scarcely  less  momentous  to  the  resolve  of  the  intrepid  ex- 
plorer who  launched  his  canoe  on  the  Congo  at  Nyangwe,  to 
win  a  second  great  inheritance  for  mankind. 

'The  exploration  of  the  great,  moving  highway  of  Africa 
makes  an  epoch  in  the  discovery  of  Africa,  closing  the  era  of 


EDITOR'S    PREFACE  ix 

desultory  and  isolated  research,  and  opening  that  of  com- 
bined, steady  effort  towards  a  definite,  though  distant,  goal. 
That  goal  is  the  opening-up  of  the  vast  Equatorial  region  to 
direct  intercourse  with  Europe.' 

I  will  now  close  my  preface  with  St.  Paul's  words,  because 
they  so  wonderfully  apply  to  Stanley :  — 

In  journeyings  often,  in  perils  of  waters, 

In  perils  of  robbers,  in  perils  by  mine  own  countrymen,  in  perils 

by  the  heathen,  ,     , 

In  perils  in  the  city,  in  perils  in  the  wilderness,  m  perils  in  the  sea, 
In  perils  among  false  brethren ; 
In  weariness  and  painfulness,  in  watchings  often, 
In  hunger  and  thirst,  in  fastings  often, 
In  cold  and  nakedness. 

If  I  must  needs  glory,  I  will  glory  of  the  things  that  concern  my 

weakness.  . 

(II  Corinthians,  Chap,  xi,  26,  27,  30.) 

The  first  nine  chapters  of  the  book  are  the  Autobiography, 
covering  the  early  years  of  Stanley's  life.  In  the  remaining 
chapters,  the  aim  has  been  to  make  him  the  narrator  and 
interpreter  of  his  own  actions.  This  has  been  done,  wherever 
possible,  by  interweaving,  into  a  connected  narrative,  strands 
gathered  from  his  unpublished  writings. 

These  materials  consist,  first,  of  journals  and  note-books. 
For  many  years  he  kept  a  line-a-day  diary;  through  some 
periods,  especially  during  his  explorations,  he  wrote  a  full 
journal;  and  at  a  later  period  he  kept  note-books,  as  well  as 
a  journal,  for  jotting  down,  sometimes  a  personal  retrospect, 
sometimes  a  comment  on  the  society  about  him,  or  a  philo- 
sophical reflection. 

The  material  includes,  next,  a  number  of  lectures,  upon  his 
various  explorations ;  these  he  prepared  with  great  care,  but 
they  were  never  published.  They  were  written  after  he  had 
published  the  books  covering  the  same  travels;  and  in  the 
lectures  we  have  the  story  told  in  a  more  condensed  and  col- 
loquial way.  Finally,  there  are  his  letters ;  in  those  to  acquaint- 
ances, and  even  to  friends,  Stanley  was  always  reserved  about 
himself,  and  his  feelings ;  I  have  therefore  used  only  a  few  of 
those  written  to  me,  during  our  married  life. 


x  EDITOR'S   PREFACE 

In  some  parts  of  the  book,  a  thread  of  editorial  explanation 
connects  the  passages  by  Stanley's  hand  ;  and  for  some  periods, 
where  the  original  material  was  fragmentary,  the  main  nar- 
rative is  editorial. 

The  use  of  the  large  type  signifies  that  Stanley  is  the 
writer;  the  smaller  type  indicates  the  editor's  hand. 

I  would  here  record  my  deep  gratitude  to  Mr.  George  S. 
Merriam,  of  Springfield,  Massachusetts,  U.  S.  A.,  for  the 
invaluable  help  and  advice  he  has  given  me;  and  also  to 
Mr.  Henry  S.  Wellcome,  Stanley's  much-valued  friend,  for 
the  great  encouragement  and  sympathy  he  has  shown  me 
throughout  the  preparation  of  this  book  for  the  press. 

Mr.  Sidney  Low's  beautiful  tribute,  I  republish,  by  kind 
permission  of  Messrs.  Smith  and  Elder,  from  the  'Cornhill 
Magazine,'  of  July,  1904. 

Finally,  I  would  draw  attention  to  the  map  of  Africa  placed 
at  the  end  of  this  volume:  Stanley  carefully  superintended 
the  making  of  it  by  the  great  map-maker,  Mr.  John  Bolton, 
at  Messrs.  Stanford's.  It  was  Mr.  Bolton's  suggestion  that 
I  should  put  the  small  outline  map  of  England  beside  it  to 
indicate,  by  comparison,  the  relative  size  of  that  portion  of 
Africa  which  is  included  in  the  larger  map. 

D.  S. 


CONTENTS 

INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  .        .  xv 

PART  I 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  THROUGH  THE  WORLD 

I.   The  Workhouse 3 

II.   Adrift 35 

III.  At  Sea 69 

IV.  At  Work 86 

V.   I  Find  a  Father 118 

VI.   Adrift  Again -140 

VII.    Soldiering 167 

VIII.    Shiloh 186 

IX.   Prisoner  of  War 205 

PART  II 

THE  LIFE  (contimied,  from  Stanley  s  Joiirnals,  Notes,  etc.) 

X.   Journalism 219 

XI.   West  and  East 

INDIAN  WARS  OF  THE  WEST.  —  ABYSSINIAN  CAMPAIGN,  ETC.  225 


xii  CONTENTS 

XII.   A  Roving  Commission 237 

XIII.  The  Finding  of  Livingstone 251 

XIV.  England  and  Coomassie 285 

XV.   Through  the  Dark  Continent      ....  296 

XVI.   Founding  the  Congo  State 333 

XVII.   The  Rescue  of  Em  in 

1.  the  relief 353 

ii.  private  reflections        .....  380 

XVIII.   Work  in  Review 392 

XIX.   Europe  Again 409 

XX.    The  Happy  Haven 423 

XXI.    Politics  and  Friends 439 

XXII.    In  Parliament 466 

XXIII.  South  Africa 482 

XXIV.  Farewell  to  Parliament 501 

XXV.   Furze  Hill 506 

XXVI.   The  Close  of  Life 512 

XXVII.   Thoughts  from  Note-Books 517 

Books  written  by  Henry  M.  Stanley 541 

Index 543 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Henry  M.  Stanley,  1890 Frontispiece 

Photograph  by  Mrs.  Frederic  IV.  H.  Myers. 

Cottage  where  Henry  M.  Stanley  was  born           .  .    to  face      4 

Workhouse,  St.  Asaph 12 

Henry  M.  Stanley,  aged  15                .         .         .         „  .                  52 

Henry  M.  Stanley,  aged  20 170 


Henry  M.  Stanley,  1872 

Photograph  by  the  London  Stereoscopic  Co.,  Regent  St.,  London. 


262 


Henry  M.  Stanley,  1874        .         .                  .         .         .  292 

Photograph  by  the  London  Stereoscopic  Co.,  Regent  St.,  London. 

Henry  M.  Stanley  and  his  Zanzibaris,  1877  •         •         •  330 

Henry  M.  Stanley,  1882 336 

Photograph  by  Messrs.  Thomson,  New  Bond  St.,  London. 

Henry  M.  Stanley,  1885 348 

Photograph  by  Messrs.  Elliott  &*  Fry,  Baker  St.,  London. 

Henry  M.  Stanley  and  his  Officers,  1890         .         .  374 

Fac-si.mile  of  a  Letter  by  Sir  Henry  M.  Stanley         .  378 

Henry  M.  Stanley,  on  his  Return  from  Africa      .  398 

Photograph  by  Mrs.  Frederic  W.  H.  Myers. 

Dorothy  Stanley       406 


xiv  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Henry  M.  Stanley,  1895 to  face  466 

Photograph  by  Sarony,  New  York. 

Furze  Hill,  Pirbright,  Surrey 506 

In  the  Village  Churchyard,  Pirbright  ...  516 

Map  of  Africa,  showing  Stanley's  Journeys      .         .  at  end 

By  Messrs.  Stanford,  London. 


INTRODUCTION    TO  THE 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

THERE  is  no  reason  now  for  withholding  the  history 
of  my  early  years,  nothing  to  prevent  my  stating 
every  fact  about  myself.  I  am  now  declining  in  vital- 
ity. My  hard  life  in  Africa,  many  fevers,  many  privations, 
much  physical  and  mental  suffering,  bring  me  close  to  the 
period  of  infirmities.  My  prospects  now  cannot  be  blasted  by 
gibes,  nor  advancement  thwarted  by  prejudice.  I  stand  in 
no  man's  way.  Therefore,  without  fear  of  consequences,  or 
danger  to  my  pride  and  reserve,  I  can  lay  bare  all  circum- 
stances which  have  attended  me  from  the  dawn  of  conscious- 
ness to  this  present  period  of  indifference. 

I  may  tell  how  I  came  into  existence,  and  how  that  existence 
was  moulded  by  contact  with  others ;  how  my  nature  devel- 
oped under  varying  influences,  and  what,  after  life's  severe 
tests,  is  the  final  outcome  of  it.  I  may  tell  how,  from  the  soft, 
tender  atom  in  the  cradle,  I  became  a  football  to  Chance,  till 
I  grew  in  hardihood,  and  learned  how  to  repel  kicks;  how  I 
was  taught  to  observe  the  moods  and  humours  of  that  large 
mass  of  human  beings  who  flitted  by  me. 

As  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of  confining  myself  to  myself, 
my  reserve  has  been  repugnant  to  gossip  in  every  shape  or 
form,  and  I  have  ever  been  the  least  likely  person  to  hear 
anything  evil  of  others,  because,  when  the  weakness  or  eccen- 
tricity of  a  casual  acquaintance  happened  to  be  a  topic,  I 
have  made  it  a  principle  to  modify,  if  I  could  not  change  it. 
In  this  book  I  am  not  translating  from  a  diary,  nor  is  it  the 
harvest  of  a  journal,  but  it  consists  of  backward  glances  at 
my  own  life,  as  memory  unrolls  the  past  to  me.  My  inclina- 
tion, as  a  young  man,  was  always  to  find  congenial  souls  to 
whom  I  could  attach  myself  in  friendship,  not  cling  to  for 
support,  friends  on  whom  I  could  thoroughly  rely,  and  to 
whom  I  could  trustfully  turn  for  sympathy,  and  the  exchange 
of  thoughts.   But,  unfortunately,  those  to  whom  in  my  trust- 


xvi  INTRODUCTION 

ful  age  I  ventured  to  consign  the  secret  hopes  and  interests  of 
my  heart,  invariably  betrayed  me.  In  some  bitter  moods  I 
have  thought  that  the  sweetest  parts  of  the  Bible  are  wholly 
inapplicable  to  actual  humanity,  for  no  power,  it  appeared  to 
me,  could  ever  transform  grown-up  human  beings  so  as  to  be 
worthy  of  heavenly  blessings. 

'Little  children,  love  one  another,'  says  divine  St.  John. 
Ah !  yes,  while  we  are  children,  we  are  capable  of  loving;  our 
love  is  as  that  of  Angels,  and  we  are  not  far  below  them  in 
purity,  despite  our  trivial  errors  and  fantasies;  for  however 
we  err,  we  still  can  love.  But  when  I  emerged  from  childhood, 
and  learned  by  experience  that  there  was  no  love  for  me,  born, 
so  to  say,  fatherless,  spurned  and  disowned  by  my  mother, 
beaten  almost  to  death  by  my  teacher  and  guardian,  fed  on 
the  bread  of  bitterness,  how  was  I  to  believe  in  Love? 

I  was  met  by  Hate  in  all  its  degrees,  and  not  I  alone.  Look 
into  the  halls  of  legislation,  of  religious  communities,  of  jus- 
tice ;  look  into  the  Press,  any  market-place,  meeting-house,  or 
walk  of  life,  and  answer  the  question,  as  to  your  own  soul, 
'Where  shall  I  find  Love?' 

See  what  a  change  forty  years  have  wrought  in  me.  When 
a  child,  I  loved  him  who  so  much  as  smiled  at  me ;  the  partner 
of  my  little  bed,  my  play-fellow,  the  stranger  boy  who  visited 
me ;  nay,  as  a  flower  attracts  the  bee,  it  only  needed  the  glance 
of  a  human  face,  to  begin  regarding  it  with  love.  Mere  in- 
crease of  years  has  changed  all  that.  Never  can  I  recall  that 
state  of  innocence,  any  more  than  I  can  rekindle  the  celestial 
spark,  for  it  was  extinguished  with  the  expansion  of  intellect 
and  by  my  experience  of  mankind.  While  my  heart,  it  may 
be,  is  as  tender  as  ever  to  the  right  person,  it  is  subject  to  my 
intellect,  which  has  become  so  fastidious  and  nice  in  its  choice, 
that  only  one  in  a  million  is  pronounced  worthy  of  it. 

No  doubt  there  will  be  much  self-betrayal  in  these  pages, 
and  he  who  can  read  between  the  lines,  as  a  physiognomist 
would  read  character,  will  not  find  it  difficult  to  read  me. 
But  then,  this  is  the  purpose  of  an  Autobiography,  and  all 
will  agree  that  it  must  be  much  more  authentic  than  any 
record  made  of  me  by  another  man.  Indeed,  I  wish  to  appear 
without  disguise,  as  regards  manners  and  opinions,  habits  and 
characteristics. 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

If  a  nation  can  be  said  to  be  happy  which  has  no  history, 
that  man  is  also  happy  whose  uneventful  life  has  not  brought 
him  into  prominence,  and  who  has  nothing  to  record  but  the 
passing  of  years  between  the  cradle  and  the  grave.  But  I  was 
not  sent  into  the  world  to  be  happy,  nor  to  search  for  happi- 
ness. I  was  sent  for  a  special  work.  Now,  from  innocent 
boyhood  and  trustful  youth,  I  have  advanced  to  some  height 
whence  I  can  look  down,  pityingly ;  as  a  father  I  can  look  down 
upon  that  young  man,  Myself,  with  a  chastened  pride ;  he  has 
done  well,  he  might  have  done  better,  but  his  life  has  been  a 
fulfilment,  since  he  has  finished  the  work  he  was  sent  to  do. 

Amen. 


PART   I 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

THROUGH    THE   WORLD 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 
SIR  HENRY  MORTON  STANLEY 


CHAPTER   I 
THE  WORKHOUSE 

IT  is  said  that  one  of  the  patrician  Mostyns,  of  North 
Wales,  possesses  a  written  pedigree  forty  feet  long,  to 
prove  the  claim  of  his  family  to  a  direct  descent  from 
Adam.  Though  no  doubt  much  of  this  extraordinary  genea- 
logy is  fabulous,  it  allows  all  of  us  plebeians  a  reasonable  hope 
to  believe  that  we  are  also  descended  from  that  venerated 
ancestor  of  our  common  humanity.  The  time  has  been  when 
patrician  families  fondly  believed  their  first  progenitor  had 
come  direct  from  Heaven,  and  we  baser  creatures  had  to  be 
content  with  an  earthly  sire. 

I  can  prove  as  ancient  a  descent  for  myself,  though  the 
names  of  my  intermediate  progenitors  between  Adam  and  my 
grandfathers,  Moses  and  John,  have  not  been  preserved.  My 
family  belonged  to  a  class  always  strangely  indifferent  to 
written  pedigrees,  which  relied  more  on  oral  traditions,  the 
preserving  of  which  has  been  mostly  the  duties  of  females,  on 
account  of  their  superior  fluency  of  speech,  and  their  dispo- 
sition to  cling  to  their  family  hearth.  My  earliest  pains  were 
caused  by  the  endless  rehearsal  of  family  history  to  which  my 
nurse  was  addicted;  for  soon  after  sunset  each  evening  she 
would  insist  on  taking  me  before  some  neighbour's  fire,  where 
I  would  meet  about  a  dozen  dames  from  the  Castle  Row,  pre- 
pared to  indulge  in  their  usual  entertainment  of  recitations 
from  their  stock  of  unwritten  folklore.  After  a  ceremonious 
greeting  and  kindly  interchange  of  civil  enquiries  about  each 
other's  health  and  affairs,  they  would  soon  drift  into  more 
serious  matter.  I  have  a  vague  idea  that  much  of  it  bordered 
on  the  uncanny  and  awful,  but  I  retain  a  strong  impression 
that  most  of  their  conversations  related  to  the  past  and  present 


4  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

of  their  respective  families,  courtships,  marriages,  and  deaths 
being  prime  events.  I  also  remember  that  there  were  many 
long  pauses,  during  which  I  could  hear  a  chorus  of  sympathetic 
sighs.  The  episodes  which  drew  these  from  their  affectionate 
breasts  are  quite  forgotten,  but  those  sighs  haunt  me  still. 

Such  families  as  were  clustered  in  front  of  the  Green  of 
Denbigh  Castle  were  an  exceedingly  primitive  folk,  with  far 
less  regard  for  ancient  ancestry  than  the  Bedouin  of  the 
Desert.  Indeed,  I  doubt  whether  any  tradesman  or  farmer  in 
our  parts  c.ould  say  who  was  his  great-great-grandfather,  or 
whether  one  yeoman  out  of  a  hundred  could  tell  who  was  his 
ancestor  of  two  hundred  years  back.  As  King  Cazembe  said 
to  Livingstone,  the  'Seeker  of  Rivers,'  'We  let  the  streams  run 
on,  and  do  not  enquire  whence  they  rise  or  whither  they  flow.' 

So  these  simple  Welsh  people  would  answer  if  questioned 
about  their  ancestors,  '  We  are  born  and  die,  and,  beyond  that, 
none  of  us  care  who  were  before  us,  or  who  shall  come  after  us.' 

My  personal  recollections  do  not  extend  beyond  the  time  I 
lay  in  the  cradle ;  so  that  all  that  precedes  this  period  I  have 
been  obliged  to  take  upon  trust.  Mind  and  body  have  grown 
together,  and  both  will  decay  according  to  the  tasks  or  bur- 
dens imposed  on  them.  But  strange,  half-formed  ideas  glide 
vaguely  into  the  mind,  sometimes,  and  then  I  seem  not  far  from 
a  tangible  and  intelligent  view  into  a  distant  age.  Sometimes 
the  turn  of  a  phrase,  a  sentence  in  a  book,  the  first  faint  out- 
line of  a  scene,  a  face  like,  yet  unlike,  one  whom  I  knew,  an 
incident,  will  send  my  mind  searching  swiftly  down  the  long- 
reaching  aisles,  extending  far  into  remote,  pre-personal  periods, 
trying  to  discover  the  connection,  to  forge  again  the  long- 
broken  link,  or  to  re-knit  the  severed  strand. 

My  father  I  never  knew.  I  was  in  my  'teens'  before  I 
learned  that  he  had  died  within  a  few  weeks  after  my  birth. 
Up  to  a  certain  date  in  the  early  Forties,  all  is  profound 
darkness  to  me.  Then,  as  I  woke  from  sleep  one  day,  a  brief 
period  of  consciousness  suddenly  dawned  upon  my  faculties. 
There  was  an  indefinable  murmur  about  me,  some  unintel- 
ligible views  floated  before  my  senses,  light  flashed  upon  the 
spirit,  and  I  entered  into  being. 

At  what  age  I  first  received  these  dim,  but  indelible,  im- 
pressions, I  cannot  guess.    It  must  have  been  in  helpless 


Sk 


^ 
•< 


THE  WORKHOUSE  5 

infancy,  for  I  seem  to  have  passed,  subsequently,  through 
a  long  age  of  dreams,  wherein  countless  vague  experiences, 
emotions,  and  acts  occurred  which,  though  indefinable,  left 
shadowy  traces  on  my  memory.  During  such  a  mechanical 
stage  of  existence  it  was  not  possible  for  me  to  distinguish 
between  dreams  and  realities. 

I  fancy  I  see  a  white  ceiling,  and  square  joists,  with  meat- 
hooks  attached  to  them,  a  round,  pink  human  face,  the  frill 
of  a  cap,  a  bit  of  bright  ribbon ;  but,  before  I  am  able  to  grasp 
the  meaning  of  what  I  see,  I  have  lapsed  into  unconsciousness 
again.  After  an  immeasurable  time,  the  faculties  seem  to  be 
re-awakened,  and  I  can  distinguish  tones,  and  am  aware  that  I 
can  see,  hear,  and  feel,  and  that  I  am  in  my  cradle.  It  is  close 
by  a  wooden  staircase,  and  my  eyes  follow  its  length  up,  and 
then  down ;  I  catch  sight  of  a  house-fly,  and  then  another, 
and  their  buzz  and  movements  become  absorbing.  Presently 
a  woman  advances,  bends  over  me  a  moment,  then  lifts  me  up 
in  her  arms,  and  from  a  great  height  I  survey  my  world. 

There  is  a  settle  of  dark  wood,  a  bit  of  carving  at  the  end  of 
it ;  there  is  a  black,  shiny  chimney ;  a  red  coal-fire,  with  one 
spluttering  jet  of  flame,  and  waving  soot-flakes;  there  is  a 
hissing  black  kettle,  and  a  thread  of  vapour  from  the  nozzle ; 
a  bright  copper  bed-warmer  suspended  to  the  wall ;  a  display 
of  coloured  plates,  mainly  blue,  with  Chinese  pictures  on 
them,  arranged  over  a  polished  dresser;  there  is  an  uneven 
flagstone  floor ;  a  window  with  diamond  panes  set  in  lead ;  a 
burnished  white  table,  with  two  deep  drawers  in  it;  a  curious 
old  clock,  with  intensely  red  flowers  above,  and  chains  and 
weights  below  it ;  and,  lastly,  I  see  a  door  cut  into  two  halves, 
the  upper  one  being  wide  open,  through  which  I  gain  my  first 
view  of  sky  and  space.  This  last  is  a  sight  worth  seeing,  and 
I  open  my  eyes  roundly  to  take  stock  of  this  pearly  space  and 
its  drifting  fleece  as  seen  through  the  door,  and  my  attention 
is  divided  between  the  sky  and  the  tick-tack  of  the  clock, 
while  forced  to  speculate  what  the  white  day  and  the  pearly 
void  mean. 

There  follows  a  transition  into  another  state  of  conscious 
being  wherein  I  appear  to  have  wings,  and  to  be  soaring  up  to 
the  roof  of  a  great  hall,  and  sailing  from  corner  to  corner,  like 
a  humming  bee  on  a  tour  of  exploration ;  and,  the  roof  pre- 


6  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

sently  being  removed,  I  launch  out  with  wings  outspread, 
joyous  and  free,  until  I  lose  myself  in  the  unknowable,  to 
emerge,  sometime  after,  in  my  own  cradle-nest  at  the  foot 
of  the  wooden  stairs. 

And  thus,  for  an  unknown  stretch  of  time,  I  endure  my  days 
without  apparent  object,  but  quietly  observant,  and  an  in- 
articulate witness  of  a  multitude  of  small  events ;  and  thus 
I  waited,  and  watched,  and  dreamed,  surrendering  myself  to 
my  state,  undisturbed,  unaffected,  unresisting,  borne  along  by 
Time  until  I  could  stand  and  take  a  larger  and  more  delib- 
erate survey  of  the  strange  things  done  around  me.  In  process 
of  time,  however,  my  tongue  learns  to  form  words,  and  to 
enter  upon  its  duties,  and  it  is  not  long  before  intelligence 
begins  to  peep  out  and  to  retain  durably  the  sense  of  exist- 
ence. 

One  of  the  first  things  I  remember  is  to  have  been  gravely 
told  that  I  had  come  from  London  in  a  band-box,  and  to  have 
been  assured  that  all  babies  came  from  the  same  place.  It 
satisfied  my  curiosity  for  several  years  as  to  the  cause  of  my 
coming ;  but,  later,  I  was  informed  that  my  mother  had  hast- 
ened to  her  parents  from  London  to  be  delivered  of  me ;  and 
that,  after  recovery,  she  had  gone  back  to  the  Metropolis, 
leaving  me  in  the  charge  of  my  grandfather,  Moses  Parry, 
who  lived  within  the  precincts  of  Denbigh  Castle. 

Forty  years  of  my  life  have  passed,  and  this  delving  into 
my  earliest  years  appears  to  me  like  an  exhumation  of  Pompeii, 
buried  for  centuries  under  the  scoriae,  lava,  and  volcanic  dust 
of  Vesuvius.  To  the  man  of  the  Nineteenth  Century,  who 
paces  the  recovered  streets  and  byeways  of  Pompeii,  how 
strange  seem  the  relics  of  the  far  distant  life !  Just  so  appear 
to  me  the  little  fatherless  babe,  and  the  orphaned  child. 

Up  to  a  certain  time  I  could  remember  well  every  incident 
connected  with  those  days ;  but  now  I  look  at  the  child  with 
wonder,  and  can  scarcely  credit  that  out  of  that  child  I  grew. 
How  quaint  that  bib  and  tucker,  that  short  frock,  the  fat  legs, 
the  dimpled  cheeks,  the  clear,  bright,  grey  eyes,  the  gaping 
wonderment  at  the  sight  of  a  stranger ;  and  I  have  to  brush 
by  the  stupefied  memories  of  a  lifetime ! 

When  I  attempt  to  arrest  one  of  the  fleeting  views  of  these 
early  stages  of  my  life,  the  foremost  image  which  presents 


THE  WORKHOUSE  7 

itself  is  that  of  my  grandfather's  house,  a  white-washed  cot- 
tage, situated  at  the  extreme  left  of  the  Castle,  with  a  long 
garden  at  the  back,  at  the  far  end  of  which  was  the  slaughter- 
house where  my  Uncle  Moses  pole-axed  calves,  and  prepared 
their  carcasses  for  the  market ;  and  the  next  is  of  myself,  in 
bib  and  tucker,  between  grandfather's  knees,  having  my 
fingers  guided,  as  I  trace  the  alphabet  letters  on  a  slate.  I 
seem  to  hear,  even  yet,  the  encouraging  words  of  the  old  man, 
'Thou  wilt  be  a  man  yet  before  thy  mother,  my  man  of 
men.' 

It  was  then,  I  believe,  that  I  first  felt  what  it  was  to  be  vain. 
I  was  proud  to  believe  that,  though  women  might  be  taller, 
stronger,  and  older  than  I,  there  lay  a  future  before  me  that 
the  most  powerful  women  could  never  hope  to  win.  It  was 
then  also  I  gathered  that  a  child's  first  duty  was  to  make 
haste  to  be  a  man,  in  order  that  I  might  attain  that  highest 
human  dignity. 

My  grandfather  appears  to  me  as  a  stout  old  gentleman, 
clad  in  corduroy  breeches,  dark  stockings,  and  long  Melton 
coat,  with  a  clean-shaven  face,  rather  round,  and  lit  up  by 
humorous  grey  eyes.  He  and  I  occupied  the  top  floor,  which 
had  an  independent  entrance  from  the  garden.  The  lower 
rooms  were  inhabited  by  my  uncles,  Moses  and  Thomas. 
By-and-bye,  there  came  a  change.  My  strong,  one-armed 
Uncle  Moses  married  a  woman  named  Kitty,  a  flaxen-haired, 
fair  girl  of  a  decided  temper ;  and  after  that  event  we  seldom 
descended  to  the  lower  apartments. 

I  have  a  vivid  remembrance  of  Sunday  evenings  at  a  Wes- 
leyan  chapel,  on  account  of  the  tortures  which  I  endured. 
The  large  galleried  building,  crowded  with  fervid  worshippers, 
and  the  deep  murmur  of  'Amens,'  the  pious  ejaculations,  are 
well  remembered,  as  well  as  the  warm  atmosphere  and  curious 
scent  of  lavender  which  soon  caused  an  unconquerable  drowsi- 
ness in  me.  Within  a  short  time  my  head  began  to  nod 
heavily,  to  the  great  danger  of  my  neck,  and  the  resolute 
effort  I  made  to  overcome  this  sleepiness,  to  avoid  the  re- 
proaches of  my  grandfather,  who  affected  to  be  shocked  at 
my  extraordinary  behaviour,  caused  the  conflict  with  nature 
to  be  so  painful  that  it  has  been  impossible  for  me  to  forget 
the  chapel  and  its  scenes. 


8  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

After  passing  my  fourth  year  there  came  an  afternoon 
when,  to  my  dismay  and  fright,  a  pitcher  with  which  I  was 
sent  for  water  fell  from  my  hands  and  was  broken.  My 
grandfather  came  to  the  garden  door  on  hearing  the  crash, 
and,  viewing  what  had  happened,  lifted  his  forefinger  menac- 
ingly and  said,  'Very  well,  Shonin,  my  lad,  when  I  return, 
thou  shalt  have  a  sound  whipping.    You  naughty  boy  I ' 

A  tragedy,  however,  intervened  to  prevent  this  punish- 
ment. It  appears  that  he  wTas  in  a  hurry  to  attend  to  some 
work  in  a  field  that  day,  and,  while  there,  fell  down  dead.  The 
neighbours  announced  that  he  had  died  through  the  '  visita- 
tion of  God,'  which  was  their  usual  way  of  explaining  any 
sudden  fatality  of  this  kind.  He  was  aged  84.  His  tomb  at 
Whitchurch  declares  the  event  to  have  occurred  in  1847. 

Soon  after,  I  was  transferred  to  the  care  of  an  ancient 
couple  who  lived  at  the  other  end  of  the  Castle,  named  Rich- 
ard and  Jenny  Price,  keepers  of  the  Bowling  Green,  into  which 
one  of  the  courts  of  the  old  Castle  had  been  converted.  The 
rate  for  my  maintenance  was  fixed  at  half-a-crown  a  week, 
which  my  twTo  uncles  agreed  to  pay  to  the  Prices.  Old  Richard 
Price,  besides  being  a  gamekeeper,  was  Sexton  of  Whitchurch, 
and  Verger  of  St.  David's.  His  wife  Jenny,  a  stout  and  buxom 
old  lady,  is  remembered  by  me  mostly  for  her  associations 
with  'peas-pudding,'  for  which  I  had  a  special  aversion,  and 
for  her  resolute  insistence  that,  whether  I  liked  it  or  not,  I 
should  eat  it. 

Other  memories  of  this  period  are  also  unforgettable  for 
the  pains  connected  with  them,  —  such  as  the  soap-lather  in 
my  Saturday  evening  tub,  and  the  nightly  visits  of  Sarah 
Price,  the  daughter  of  the  house,  to  her  friends  at  Castle  Row, 
where  she  would  gossip  to  such  a  late  hour  that  I  always  suf- 
fered from  intolerable  fidgets.  [Mothers  of  the  present  day 
will  understand  how  hard  it  is  for  a  child  of  four  or  five  years 
old  to  remain  awake  long  after  sunset,  and  that  it  was  cruel 
ignorance  on  the  part  of  Sarah  to  keep  me  up  until  ten  o'clock 
every  night,  to  listen  to  her  prosy  stories  of  ghosts  and  graves. 
Sarah's  description  of  a  devil,  a  curious  creature  with  horns 
on  his  head,  with  hoofed  feet  and  a  long  tail,  was  wont  to 
make  me  shiver  with  fright.  She  was  equally  graphic  and 
minute  in  her  descriptions  of  witches,  ghosts,  fairies,  giants 


THE  WORKHOUSE  9 

and  dwarfs,  kidnappers  and  hobgoblins,  bugaboos,  and  other 
terrific  monsters,  against  whose  extraordinary  powers  it  be- 
hoved me  to  be  always  on  guard.  The  dark  night  was  espe- 
cially haunted  by  them,  and  the  ingle-nook  by  a  bright  fire 
was  then  the  safest  place  for  children. 

If  the  grown  folk  had  not  all  shared  Sarah's  belief  in  these 
gruesome  creatures,  I  might  perhaps  have  doubted  they  ex- 
isted ;  but  I  remember  to  have  seen  them  huddle  closer  to  the 
fire,  look  warily  over  their  shoulders  at  the  shadows,  as  though 
they  lay  in  wait  for  a  casual  bit  of  darkness  to  pounce  upon 
them  and  carry  them  off  to  the  ghostly  limbo.  Had  Sarah 
but  known  how  pain  impresses  the  memory  of  a  child,  it  is 
probable  that  she  would  have  put  me  to  bed  rather  than  have 
taken  me  with  her,  as  a  witness  of  her  folly  and  ignorant 
credulity.  She  believed  herself  to  be  very  level-headed,  and, 
indeed,  by  her  acquaintances  she  was  esteemed  as  a  sensible 
and  clever  woman ;  but,  as  she  infected  me  with  many  silly 
fears,  I  am  now  inclined  to  believe  that  both  she  and  her 
neighbours  were  sadly  deficient  in  common-sense.^ 

One  effect  of  these  interminable  ghost-stories  was  visible 
one  evening  when  I  went  to  fetch  some  water  from  the  Castle 
well.  It  appeared  to  me  that  I  saw  on  this  occasion  a  tall, 
black  spectre,  standing  astride  of  the  Castle  well.  I  took  it  at 
first  to  be  the  shadow  of  a  tree,  but  tracing  it  upward  I  saw 
a  man's  head  which  seemed  to  reach  the  sky.  I  gazed  at 
it  a  short  time,  unable  to  move  or  cry  out ;  then  the  phantom 
seemed  to  be  advancing  upon  me,  fear  put  wings  to  my  feet, 
and  I  turned  and  ran,  screaming,  and  never  once  halted  until 
I  had  found  a  safe  hiding-place  under  my  bed.  The  dreadful 
vision  of  that  ghost  haunted  me  for  years,  and  for  a  long  time 
I  made  it  a  rule  not  to  retire  until  I  had  looked  under  the  bed, 
lest,  when  asleep,  ghosts  and  kidnappers  might  come  and 
carry  me  off.  The  belief  that  the  darkness  was  infested  by 
evil  agencies  and  ferocious  visitants  hostile  to  little  boys  I  owe 
to  Sarah's  silly  garrulity  at  Castle  Row. 

I  am  under  the  impression  that  during  the  day,  for  a  portion 
of  this  period,  I  was  sent  to  an  infant's  school,  where  there 
was  a  terrible  old  lady  who  is  associated  in  my  mind  with 
spectacles  and  a  birch  rod ;  but  I  have  no  particular  incident 
connected  with  it  to  make  it  definite. 


I 


io  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

Richard  Price  and  his  wife  Jenny  seem  to  have,  at  last, 
become  dismayed  at  my  increasing  appetite,  and  to  have 
demanded  a  higher  rate  for  my  maintenance.  As  both  my 
uncles  had  in  the  mean  time  married,  and  through  the  influ- 
ence of  their  wives  declined  to  be  at  further  charge  for  me, 
the  old  couple  resolved  to  send  me  to  the  Workhouse.  Con- 
sequently Dick  Price,  the  son,  took  me  by  the  hand  one  day, 
Saturday,  February  20th,  1847,  and,  under  the  pretence  that 
we  were  going  to  Aunt  Mary  at  Fynnon  Beuno,  induced  me 
to  accompany  him  on  a  long  journey. 

The  way  seemed  interminable  and  tedious,  but  he  did  his 
best  to  relieve  my  fatigue  with  false  cajolings  and  treacherous 
endearments.  At  last  Dick  set  me  down  from  his  shoulders 
before  an  immense  stone  building,  and,  passing  through  tall 
iron  gates,  he  pulled  at  a  bell,  which  I  could  hear  clanging 
noisily  in  the  distant  interior.  A  sombre-faced  stranger  ap- 
peared at  the  door,  who,  despite  my  remonstrances,  seized 
me  by  the  hand,  and  drew  me  within,  while  Dick  tried  to  sooth 
my  fears  with  glib  promises  that  he  was  only  going  to  bring 
Aunt  Mary  to  me.  The  door  closed  on  him,  and,  wTith  the 
echoing  sound,  I  experienced  for  the  first  time  the  awful  feel- 
ing of  utter  desolateness. 

*  The  great  building  with  the  iron  gates  and  innumerable 
windows,  into  which  I  had  been  so  treacherously  taken,  was 
the  St.  Asaph  Union  Workhouse.  It  is  an  institution  to 
which  the  aged  poor  and  superfluous  children  of  that  parish 
are  taken,  to  relieve  the  respectabilities  of  the  obnoxious 
sight  of  extreme  poverty,  and  because  civilisation  knows  no 
better  method  of  disposing  of  the  infirm  and  helpless  than  by 
imprisoning  them  within  its  walls. 

Once  within,  the  aged  are  subjected  to  stern  rules  and 
useless  tasks,  while  the  children  are  chastised  and  disciplined 
in  a  manner  that  is  contrary  to  justice  and  charity.  To  the 
aged  it  is  a  house  of  slow  death,  to  the  young  it  is  a  house  of 
torture.  Paupers  are  the  failures  of  society,  and  the  doom  of 
such  is  that  they  shall  be  taken  to  eke  out  the  rest  of  their 
miserable  existence  within  the  walls  of  the  Workhouse,  to  pick 
oakum. 

The  sexes  are  lodged  in  separate  wards  enclosed  by  high 
walls,  and  every  door  is  locked,  and  barred,  and  guarded,  to 


THE  WORKHOUSE  n 

preserve  that  austere  morality  for  which  these  institutions  are 
famous.  That  the  piteous  condition  of  these  unfortunates 
may  not  arouse  any  sympathy  in  the  casual  visitor,  the  out- 
casts are  clad  in  fustian  suits,  or  striped  cotton  dresses,  in 
which  uniform  garb  they  become  undistinguishable,  and 
excite  no  interest.  Their  only  fault  was  that  they  had  become 
old,  or  so  enfeebled  by  toil  and  sickness  that  they  could  no 
longer  sustain  themselves,  and  this  is  so  heinous  and  grave  in 
Christian  England  that  it  is  punished  by  the  loss  of  their 
liberty,  and  they  are  made  slaves. 

At  one  time  in  English  history  such  wretches  were  left  to 
die  by  the  wayside ;  at  another  time,  they  incurred  the  sus- 
picion of  being  witches,  and  were  either  drowned  or  burnt; 
but  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Victoria  the  dull-witted  nation  has 
conceived  it  to  be  more  humane  to  confine  them  in  a  prison, 
separate  husband  from  wife,  parent  from  child,  and  mete  out 
to  each  inmate  a  daily  task,  and  keep  old  and  young  under 
the  strictest  surveillance.  At  six  in  the  morning  they  are  all 
roused  from  sleep ;  and  at  8  o'clock  at  night  they  are  penned 
up  in  their  dormitories.  Bread,  gruel,  rice,  and  potatoes  com- 
pose principally  their  fare,  after  being  nicely  weighed  and 
measured.  On  Saturdayseach  person  must  undergo  a  thorough 
scrubbing,  and  on  Sundays  they  must  submit  to  two  sermons, 
which  treat  of  things  never  practised,  and  patiently  kneel 
during  a  prayer  as  long  as  a  sermon,  in  the  evening. 

It  is  a  fearful  fate,  that  of  a  British  outcast,  because  the 
punishment  afflicts  the  mind  and  breaks  the  heart.  It  is 
worse  than  that  which  overtakes  the  felonious  convict,  be- 
cause it  appears  so  unmerited,  and  so  contrary  to  that  which 
the  poor  have  a  right  to  expect  from  a  Christian  and  civilised 
people.   % 

Ages  hence  the  nation  will  be  wiser,  and  devise  something 
more  suited  to  the  merits  of  the  veteran  toilers.  It  will  con- 
vert these  magnificent  and  spacious  buildings  into  model 
houses  for  the  poor,  on  the  flat  system,  which  may  be  done  at 
little  expense.  The  cruel  walls  which  deprive  the  inmates  of 
their  liberty  will  be  demolished,  and  the  courts  will  be  con- 
verted into  grassy  plats  edged  by  flowering  bushes.  The 
stupid  restraints  on  the  aged  will  be  abolished,  husbands  and 
wives  will  be  housed  together,  their  children  will  be  restored 


12  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

to  them  after  school  hours.  The  bachelors  and  spinsters  will 
dwell  apart,  the  orphans  will  be  placed  in  orphanages,  the 
idiots  in  asylums,  and  the  able-bodied  tramp  and  idler  in 
penitentiaries,  and  these  costly  structures  will  lose  their 
present  opprobrious  character. 

But  now,  as  in  1847,  the  destitute  aged  and  the  orphans, 
the  vagabonds  and  the  idiots,  are  gathered  into  these  insti- 
tutions, and  located  in  their  respective  wards  according  to 
t  age  and  sex.  In  that  of  St.  Asaph  the  four  wards  meet  in  an 
octagonal  central  house,  which  contains  the  offices  of  the  in- 
stitution, and  is  the  residence  of  the  governor  and  matron. 

It  took  me  some  time  to  learn  the  unimportance  of  tears  in 
a  workhouse.  Hitherto  tears  had  brought  me  relief  in  one 
shape  or  another,  but  from  this  time  forth  they  availed 
nothing.  James  Francis,  the  one-handed  schoolmaster  into 
whose  stern  grasp  Dick  Price  had  resigned  me,  was  little  dis- 
posed to  soften  the  blow  dealt  my  sensibilities  by  treachery. 
Though  forty-five  vears  have  passed  since  that  dreadful 
evening,  my  resentment  has  not  a  whit  abated.  Dick's  guile 
was  well  meant,  no  doubt,  but  I  then  learned  for  the  first  time 
that  one's  professed  friend  can  smile  while  preparing  to  deal 
a  mortal  blow,  and  that  a  man  can  mask  evil  with  a  show  of 
goodness.  It  would  have  been  far  better  for  me  if  Dick,  being 
stronger  than  I,  had  employed  compulsion,  instead  of  shat- 
1    tering  my  confidence  and  planting  the  first  seeds  of  distrust 

in  a  child's  heart.  / 
•/^Francis,  soured  by  misfortune,  brutal  of  temper,  and  callous 
of  heart,  through  years  of  control  over  children,  was  not  a  man 
to  understand  the  cause  of  my  inconsolable  grief.  Nor  did  he 
try.  Time,  however,  alleviated  my  affliction,  and  the  lapse  of 
uncounted  days,  bringing  their  quota  of  smarts  and  pains, 
tended  to  harden  the  mind  for  life's  great  task  of  suffering. 
No  Greek  helot  or  dark  slave  ever  underwent  such  discipline 
as  the  boys  of  St.  Asaph  under  the  heavy  masterful  hand  of 
James  Francis.  The  ready  back-slap  in  the  face,  the  stunning 
clout  over  the  ear,  the  strong  blow  with  the  open  palm  on 
alternate  cheeks,  which  knocked  our  senses  into  confusion, 
were  so  frequent  that  it  is  a  marvel  we  ever  recovered  them 
again.  Whatever  might  be  the  nature  of  the  offence,  or 
merely  because  his  irritable  mood  required  vent,  our  poor 


Or 


THE  WORKHOUSE  13 

heads  were  cuffed,  and  slapped,  and  pounded,  until  we  lay 
speechless  and  streaming  with  blood.  But  though  a  tremend- 
ously rough  and  reckless  striker  with  his  fist  or  hand,  such 
blows  were  preferable  to  deliberate  punishment  with  the 
birch,  ruler,  or  cane,  which,  with  cool  malice,  he  inflicted. 
These  instruments  were  always  kept  ready  at  hand.  It  simply 
depended  upon  how  far  the  victim  was  from  him,  or  how 
great  was  his  fury,  as  to  which  he  would  choose  to  castigate 
us  with.  If  we  happened  to  be  called  up  to  him  to  recite  our 
lessons,  then  the  bony  hand  flew  mercilessly  about  our  faces 
and  heads,  or  rammed  us  in  the  stomachs  until  our  convulsions 
became  alarming.  If,  while  at  the  desk,  he  was  reading  to  us, 
he  addressed  a  question  to  some  boy,  the  slightest  error  in 
reply  would  either  be  followed  by  a  stinging  blow  from  the 
ruler,  or  a  thwack  with  his  blackthorn.  If  a  series  of  errors 
were  discovered  in  our  lessons,  then  a  vindictive  scourging  of 
the  offender  followed,  until  he  was  exhausted,  or  our  lacerated 
bodies  could  bear  no  more.^-^    n^  »s. 

My  first  flogging  is  well  remembered,  and  illustrates  the 
man's  temper  and  nature  thoroughly,  and  proves  that  we 
were  more  unfortunate^than  vicious.  It  was  a  Sunday  evening 
in  the  early  part  of  ^(^Francis  was  reading  aloud  to  us  the 
41st  chapter  of  Genesis,  preliminary  to  dismissing  us  to  our 
dormitory.  There  was  much  reference  in  the  chapter  to 
Joseph,  who  had  been  sold  as  a  slave  by  his  brothers,  and  had 
been  promoted  to  high  rank  by  Pharaoh.  In  order  to  test  our 
attention,  he  suddenly  looked  up  and  demanded  of  me  who 
it  was  that  had  interpreted  the  dream  of  the  King.  With 
a  proud  confidence  I  promptly  replied,  — 

'Jophes,  sir.' 

'Who?' 

'Jophes,  sir.' 

'Joseph,  you  mean.' 

'Yes,  sir,  Jophes.' 

Despite  his  repeated  stern  shouts  of  'Joseph,'  I  as  often 
replied    'Jophes,'   wondering  more  and    more  at  his    rising 

1  James  Francis  had  been  a  working  collier  at  Mold  until  he  met  with  an  accident 
which  deprived  him  of  his  left  hand.  As  he  had  some  education  he  was  appointed 
Master  of  St.  Asaph  Union,  where  he  remained  during  many  years.  He  became  more 
and  more  savage,  and,  at  last,  it  was  discovered  he  had  lost  his  reason,  and  he  died  in  a 
mad-house. — D.  S. 


i4  HENRY   M.  STANLEY 

wrath,  and  wherein  lay  the  difference  between  the  two 
names. 

He  grew  tired  at  last,  and  laying  hold  of  a  new  birch  rod 
he  ordered  me  to  unbreech,  upon  which  I  turned  marble- 
white,  and  for  a  moment  was  as  one  that  is  palsied,  for  my 
mind  was  struggling  between  astonishment,  terror,  and  doubt 
as  to  whether  my  ears  had  heard  aright,  and  why  I  was 
chosen  to  be  the  victim  of  his  anger.  This  hesitation  in- 
creased his  wrath,  and  while  I  was  still  inwardly  in  a  turmoil 
he  advanced  upon  me,  and  rudely  tore  down  my  nether  gar- 
ment and  administered  a  forceful  shower  of  blows,  with  such 
thrilling  effect  that  I  was  bruised  and  bloodied  all  over,  and 
could  not  stand  for  a  time.  During  the  hour  that  followed 
I  remained  as  much  perplexed  at  the  difference  between 
'Jophes'  and  'Joseph'  as  at  the  peculiar  character  of  the 
agonising  pains  I  suffered.  For  some  weeks  I  was  under  the 
impression  that  the  scourging  was  less  due  to  my  error  than  to 
some  mysterious  connection  it  might  have  with  Genesis.  • 

With  such  a  passionate  teacher  it  may  be  imagined  that  we 
children  increased  his  displeasure  times  without  number. 
The  restlessness  of  childhood,  and  nature's  infirmities,  con- 
tributed endless  causes  for  correction.  The  unquiet  feet,  the 
lively  tongues,  defects  of  memory,  listlessness,  the  effects  of 
the  climate,  all  sufficed  to  provoke  his  irritation,  and  to  cause 
us  to  be  summarily  castigated  with  birch  or  stick,  or  pum- 
melled without  mercy. 

Day  after  day  little  wretches  would  be  flung  down  on  the 
stone  floor  in  writhing  heaps,  or  stood,  with  blinking  eyes  and 
humped  backs,  to  receive  the  shock  of  the  ebony  ruler,  or  were 
sent  pirouetting  across  the  school  from  a  ruffianly  kick,  while 
the  rest  suffered  from  a  sympathetic  terror  during  such  exhi- 
bitions, for  none  knew  what  moment  he  might  be  called  to 
endure  the  like.  Every  hour  of  our  lives  we  lived  and  breathed 
in  mortal  fear  of  the  cruel  hand  and  blighting  glare  of  one  so 
easily  frenzied.  , 

The  second  memorable  whipping  I  received  was  during  the 
autumn  of  1851,  the  year  of  Rhuddlan  Eisteddfod.  Cholera 
was  reported  to  be  in  the  country,  and  I  believe  we  were  for- 
bidden to  eat  fruit  of  any  kind.  Some  weeks,  however,  after 
the  edict  had  been  issued,  I  and  the  most  scholarly  boy  in 


THE  WORKHOUSE  15 

the  school  were  sent  on  an  errand  to  the  Cathedral  town. 
When  returning,  we  caught  sight  of  a  bunch  of  blackberries 
on  the  other  side  of  a  hedge,  and,  wholly  oblivious  of  the  conse- 
quences, we  climbed  over  a  gate  into  the  field  and  feasted  on 
the  delicious  fruit,  and,  of  course,  stained  our  fingers  and  lips. 
On  reporting  ourselves  to  Francis,  it  was  evident  by  the  way 
he  gazed  at  us  both  that  he  guessed  what  we  had  been  doing, 
but  he  said  nothing,  and  we  retired  from  him  with  a  sense  of 
relief.  About  half  an  hour  after  we  all  had  been  dismissed  to 
our  dormitory,  and  we  were  all  quiet  abed,  the  master's  tramp 
was  heard  on  the  stairs,  and  when  he  appeared  at  the  door  he 
had  a  birch  as  large  as  a  broom  in  his  hand. 

He  stood  long  enough  to  remind  us  all  that  he  had  ex- 
pressly forbidden  us  to  eat  any  fruit  from  stall  or  hedge  be- 
cause of  the  sickness  that  was  in  the  country ;  then,  giving  a 
swishing  blow  in  the  air  with  his  birch,  he  advanced  to  my 
bed  and  with  one  hand  plucked  me  out  of  bed,  and  forthwith 
administered  a  punishment  so  dreadful  that  blackberries 
suggested  birching  ever  afterwards.  He  next  went  to  the  bed 
of  the  scholar  George,  who  hitherto  had  escaped  the  experi- 
ence he  wTas  now  to  undergo,  because  of  his  remarkable  abil- 
ities. George,  being  new  to  the  exquisite  pain  of  flagellation, 
writhed  and  struggled  to  such  an  extent  that  he  exasperated 
the  master,  and  received  double  punishment,  and  his  back, 
breast,  and  legs  were  covered  with  wounds. 
^C  The  hard  tasks  imposed  upon  us,  such  as  sweeping  the  play- 
ground with  brooms  more  suited  to  giants  than  little  children, 
the  washing  of  the  slated  floors  when  one  was  stiff  from 
caning,  the  hoeing  of  frost-bound  ground,  when  every  stroke 
on  it  caused  the  nerves  to  quiver,  the  thinly-clad  body  all 
the  while  exposed  to  a  searching  wind ;  the  compelling  us  to 
commit  whole  pages  to  memory  during  the  evening ;  in  these, 
and  scores  of  other  ways,  our  treatment  was  ferocious  and 
stupid. 

Under  such  treatment  as  these  examples  describe,  who 
could  have  supposed  that  any  of  the  St.  Asaph  waifs  would 
ever  have  developed  into  anything  resembling  respectable 
manhood  ?  Yet  several  of  these  poor  lads  have  since  risen  to 
receive  a  large  measure  of  respect  from  Society.  One  of  them 
has  become  a  wealthy  merchant,  another  is  a  vicar,  a  third  is 


16  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

a  colonial  lawyer,  and  a  fourth  is  a  person  of  distinction  in  a 
South  African  State. 

It  is  true  that,  though  unfortunate  in  early  infancy,  many  of 
these  children  were  of  sound,  vigorous  stock,  and  descended 
from  people  who  had  once  been  eminently  respectable;  and 
the  diet,  though  meagre,  was  nourishing;  but  the  inhuman 
discipline,  the  excessive  confinement  to  school,  ought  to  have 
dwarfed  their  bodies,  crushed  their  spirits,  and  made  them 
hopelessly  imbecile./' 

Up  to  the  eleventh  year  of  age  we  all  appeared  to  be  of  the 
same  mould,  and  of  a  very  level  mediocrity.  We  were  of  the 
same  cowed,  submissive  aspect,  and  were  a  mere  flock  of 
cropped  little  oddities,  eating  at  the  same  table,  rising  from 
bed  and  retiring  at  the  same  minute,  subject  to  the  same 
ruthless  discipline,  and  receiving  the  same  lessons.  There 
were  four  classes  of  us,  and  the  grade  of  intelligence  in  each 
class  was  so  alike  that  one  might  predict  with  certainty  what 
year  the  infant  of  the  fourth  class  would  be  promoted  to  a 
place  in  the  first.  Favoritism  was  impossible,  for  no  boy 
possessed  means,  grace,  or  influence  to  mollify  or  placate  such 
a  monster  as  Francis.  Clad  in  that  uninteresting  garb  of 
squalid  fustian,  with  hair  mown  close  to  the  skull,  brow- 
beaten and  mauled  indiscriminately,  a  god  might  have  passed 
unnoticed  by  the  average  visitor.  But  as  each  boy  verged  on 
his  eleventh  year  his  aptitudes  became  more  marked,  and  he 
became  distinguished  by  a  certain  individuality  of  character 
and  spirit. 

The  number  of  boys  in  our  school  averaged  thirty,  but  out 
of  that  number  only  five  could  be  picked  out  as  possessing 
qualities  rivalling  those  of  the  average  clever  boys  of  the 
best  public  schools.  One  named  'Toomis'  was  a  born  mathe- 
matician, another  was  famous  for  retentiveness  of  memory. 
George  Williams  was  unusually  distinguished  for  quick  com- 
prehension, while  Billy,  with  his  big  head  and  lofty  brow, 
astonished  Her  Majesty's  Inspector,  who  prophesied  great 
things  of  him  in  the  future,  while  I,  though  not  particularly 
brilliant  in  any  special  thing  that  I  can  remember,  held  my 
own  as  head  of  the  school. 

When  the  Eisteddfod  was  held  at  Rhuddlan  in  1851,  I  was 
the  one  chosen  to  represent  the  genius  of  the  school ;  but. 


MVERSi" 

THE  WORKHOUSE  17 

soon  after  the  nomination,  I  fell  ill  of  measles,  and  Toomis 
succeeded  to  the  honour.  Apropos  of  this :  exactly  forty  years 
later  I  was  invited  to  preside  over  one  of  the  meetings  of  the 
Eisteddfod,  held  at  Swansea,  but  as  I  was  preparing  for  this 
honour,  a  fall  at  Miirren,  Switzerland,  resulted  in  the  fracture 
of  my  left  leg,  which  rendered  my  appearance  impossible. 

The  other  boys  in  the  school  consisted  of  the  dunces,  the 
indolent,  the  malingerers,  the  would-be  truants,  the  dull,  the 
noisy,  the  fat-witted  majority,  just  six  times  more  numerous 
than  the  naturally-able  boys.  This  proportion  of  one  in  six  is 
very  common  in  the  world.  In  ships  that  I  have  sailed  in, 
among  the  military  companions  with  whom  I  have  cam- 
paigned, among  the  blacks  and  the  whites  of  my  African 
expeditions,  in  the  House  of  Commons,  and  in  Congress,  the 
leaven  of  one  in  six  seemed  to  be  required  to  keep  things 
rightly  going. 

When  Bishop  Vowler  Short  —  who  had  once  been  tutor 
to  Cardinal  Newman  —  appeared  on  his  annual  visit  to 
the  school,  he  was  heard  to  express  high  approval  of  the 
attainments  of  some  of  the  boys  in  the  first  class,  and,  after 
honouring  them  with  valuable  souvenirs,  graciously  blessed 
them. 

When  Captain  Leigh  Thomas,  the  Chairman  of  the  Board  of 
Guardians,  who  was  a  local  magnate,  and  of  Indian  distinc- 
tion —  being  descended  from  that  Captain  George  Thomas, 
who,  in  the  last  century,  rose  from  obscurity  to  the  rank  of  an 
Indian  prince  in  North- West  India  —  visited  us,  he  pointed 
out  to  Francis  promising  traits  in  several  of  the  head  boys,  and 
was  not  too  proud  to  pat  us  on  the  head,  and  elevate  us  by 
kind  encouragements  with  a  hope  that  there  were  bright 
rewards  in  store  for  some  of  us  for  our  manifest  abilities. 

Her  Majesty's  Inspector  of  Schools  on  his  tour  of  inspection 
professed  to  discover  in  some  of  our  boys  the  signs  of  unusual 
intelligence,  and,  calling  one  up  to  him,  felt  his  head  and  his 
temples,  and  then  turned  round  to  Francis,  and  declared,  in 
our  acute  hearing,  that  he  felt  assured  'that  boy  would  be 
a  prodigy  of  learning  if  he  went  on/ 

Our  parson  —  Mr.  Smalley,  of  Cwm — unbent  one  day  to 
examine  us  on  Scripture  History,  and  one  boy  so  astonished 
him  by  his  wonderful  memory,  and  quick  and  correct  answers, 


18  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

that  he  exclaimed,  'Why,  Francis,  you  have  quite  a  young 
Erasmus  here.' 

The  famous  Hicks  Owen,  of  Rhyllon,  examined  us  in 
geography  one  time,  and  was  pleased  to  say,  on  concluding, 
that  some  of  us  knew  far  more  geography  than  he  knew  him- 
self, and  that  to  prevent  being  shamed  by  us  he  would  have 
to  study  his  gazetteers  and  atlas  before  he  ventured  among 
us  a  second  time. 

The  auditor  of  the  Board,  after  testing  Toomis's  proficiency 
in  mathematics,  laughingly  called  him  young  Babbage,  and  a 
lightning  calculator. 

Such  commendation  was  a  great  encouragement  and  stimu- 
lus. The  rarity  of  it,  I  suppose,  impressed  it  on  our  minds, 
and  the  sweetness  of  the  praise  had  a  more  penetrating  effect 
than  blame  or  bruise. 
^  The  difference  between  our  school  and  the  public  grammar 
school  of  the  period  lay  in  the  fact  that  our  instruction  was 
principally  religious  and  industrial,  while  in  the  other  it  was 
mainly  secular  and  physical.  The  aim  of  the  guardians  ap- 
peared to  be  the  making  of  commonplace  farmers,  tradesmen, 
and  mechanics,  and  instead  of  the  gymnasium,  our  muscles 
were  practised  in  spade  industry,  gardening,  tailoring,  and 
joiner's  work. 
__4  Our  outdoor  games  were  of  a  gentle  and  innocent  kind,  and 
only  pursued  when  the  weather  prohibited  the  use  of  the  hoe 
and  spade.  We  instinctively  chased  humble-bees,  daddy- 
long-legs,  we  played  with  cowslip-balls,  wove  chains  of  dan- 
delion flowers,  and  made  chaplets  of  buttercups.  The  old- 
sters, through  some  mysterious  connection  with  the  outside 
boy-world,  became  acquainted  with  spring-tops,  tip-cat,  kite- 
flying, hop-scotch,  and  marbles,  leap-frog,  hen-and-chickens, 
and  follow-my-leader.  Through  some  means,  the  art  of  telling 
the  time  by  thistledown,  and  of  divining  by  blowing  the  tassel, 
had  been  introduced  among  us.  W7e  sometimes  played  hide- 
and-seek,  and  excited  ourselves  by  mild  gambling  with  stones. 
At  rare  intervals  we  blackened  one  another's  eyes,  but,  from 
fear  of  consequences,  our  quarrels  were  more  often  settled  by 
wrestling,  when  the  victor  might  indulge  his  spleen  by  thump- 
ing the  fallen  without  marking  the  face.  We  were  firm  be- 
lievers in  nocturnal  visitants,  and  in  the  magic  of  the  rhyme, 


THE  WORKHOUSE  19 

1  Rain,  rain,  go  to  Spain, 
Sun,  sun,  come  again.' 

The  mimetic  power  was  early  developed  in  me.  The  school- 
teacher, and  various  country  persons,  the  old  porter  even,  were 
mimicked  well  enough  to  draw  the  applause  of  my  school- 
mates.      • 

We  joyfully  looked  forward  to  the  coming  of  May,  which 
always  preceded  the  season  of  sunshine  and  outdoor  play 
on  the  lush  green  plats  outside  of  the  walls.  We  faithfully 
observed  St.  Valentine's  Day,  the  29th  of  May,  the  5th  of 
November,  and  the  30th  of  January,  for  the  names  of  Guy 
Fawkes,  and  Charles  I  and  II,  were  well  known  to  us.  Good 
Friday  was  always  a  gloomy  day  with  us,  and  Easter  was 
solemn;  but  Christmas  became  associated  with  pudding, 
toffee,  and  apples,  and  was  the  most  welcome  day  in  the 
year. 

We  were  Church  folk,  and  were  swayed  by  her  festivals. 
Most  of  us  could  repeat  the  Morning  Service  from  memory, 
a  few  knew  the  Collects  and  Psalms  by  heart,  for  they  had 
been  given  to  us  so  frequently  as  tasks  because  of  their  sub- 
divisions, and  because  it  was  deemed  necessary  to  keep  us 
constantly  occupied;  and  as,  morning  and  evening,  we  per- 
formed our  devotions,  we  grew  marvellously  familiar  with 
Sacred  History. 

Our  school  was  a  little  world  in  miniature.  Most  of  those 
now  prominent  in  my  recollection  had  been  foreshadowed 
by  traits  which  distinguished  my  school-mates.  The  small 
creatures  were  faithful  prototypes  of  scores  of  adults  I  have 
since  met  in  various  parts  of  the  world.  If  they  have  not  met 
with  their  deserts,  good,  bad,  or  indifferent,  it  must  be  be- 
cause of  their  lack,  or  misuse,  of  opportunities,  or  accident. 
There  were  some  among  them  good  enough  for  heaven,  there 
were  others  who  seemed  wholly  vile.  Even  at  that  early  age 
I  held  a  belief  that  some  of  them  would  become  heroes  and 
saints,  and  would  be  world-famous,  while  there  were  two  or 
three  whom  I  regarded  as  too  despicable  for  human  inter- 
course. Time,  however,  has  proved  me  to  have  been  wrong. 
My  saint  occupies  an  average  place  among  common  men,  my 
hero  is  lost  in  the  deep  silence,  my  criminals  are  probably  as 
good  yeomen  as  could  be  wished,  my  ideals  of  imbecility  are 


20  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

modest  citizens,  but  from  among  the  unobserved  flock  have 
emerged  two  or  three  to  note  and  worth. 

Meantime,  remote  and  secluded  from  the  world  without  our 
gates,  which  rode  in  fine  chariots,  or  sat  in  glory  on  the  roof 
of  the  '  Jellamanjosy'  coach,  or  strode  free  along  the  Queen's 
highway,  we  vegetated  within  the  high  walls  surrounding  our 
home  of  lowliness.  We  could  take  no  part  in  public  rejoicings, 
or  grieve  in  its  sorrows ;  we  knew  no  Royal  or  State  occasions, 
shared  in  no  jubilant  celebrations,  and  were  equally  ignorant 
of  public  panics  and  disturbances,  as  of  the  pomp  and  woes  of 
war.  In  the  Crimea  there  might  be  a  million  of  men  gathered 
together  to  play  at  the  dangerous  game  of  cannon-balls,  and 
to  batter  one  another  into  shapeless  fragments ;  London  might 
roar  day  and  night  with  its  thunderous  traffic ;  Birmingham 
might  be  suffocating  under  the  fumes  of  its  furnaces;  and 
Manchester  might  vibrate  under  the  force  of  its  accumulated 
mechanisms,  —  to  us  it  mattered  as  little  as  though  we  were 
in  another  planet. 

Year  after  year  we  noted  the  passing  of  the  seasons  by  the 
budding  blossoms,  the  flight  of  bees,  the  corn  which  changed 
from  green  to  gold,  the  fall  and  whirl  of  leaves,  followed  soon 
after  by  white  snow,  and  blasts  of  nipping  winds,  which 
stiffened  our  muscles,  and  sent  us  shivering  to  the  fire. 

The  little  shops  near  and  in  St.  Asaph  had  somehow  the  air 
of  large-hearted  benevolence,  which  I  never  knew  to  be  real- 
ised. How  often  I  tried  to  peep  in,  that  I  might  understand 
the  ways  of  these  singular  people,  having  by  right  divine  the 
privilege  of  dispensing  to  all  men  unlimited  stores  of  food  and 
clothing !  How  I  envied  the  grocer's  boy,  who  could  dig  his 
hands  at  his  pleasure  into  inexhaustible  barrels  of  currants 
and  boxes  of  raisins,  and  the  plenteous  loaves  of  white  fragrant 
sugar,  or  the  smart  youth  with  the  blue  necktie,  who  might 
wear  any  gorgeous  robe  he  chose,  for  I  believed  it  was  only 
his  modesty  which  prevented  him  from  appearing  in  crimson, 
or  yellow,  silk  and  satin ! 

We  had  reason  to  believe  that  the  great  world  outside  con- 
tained lower  depths  of  misery  than  anything  experienced  by 
us ;  for,  now  and  then,  we  caught  glimpses  of  horrid,  unkempt 
vagrants  as  they  came  to  the  porter's  lodge  for  a  lodging ;  and, 
during  our  visits  to  St.  Asaph,  we  could  not  enter  the  town 


THE  WORKHOUSE  21 

without  being  impressed  with  the  squalor  of  the  Irish  Square, 
which  made  us  glad  that  we  were  not  so  disreputable  as  the 
ragged  urchins  of  that  sordid  locality.  Little  as  we  were  aware 
of  it,  our  minds  were  becoming  soiled  by  prejudices,  just  as 
our  boots  were  stained  with  the  greasy  mud  of  that  neighbour- 
hood. The  repulsiveness  of  the  Square,  and  the  insolence  of  the 
smutty-faced,  bare-footed  gamins,  made  us  believe  that  Irish- 
men and  Roman  Catholics  were  barbarians  and  idolaters,  and 
when,  losing  patience  with  their  yelping  clamour,  we  turned  to 
resent  their  attacks,  and  saw  them  skurry  to  their  kennels,  we 
believed  ourselves  justified  in  the  opinion  that  the  young  brats 
knew  nothing  of  fair  fighting.  Once  this  opinion  became  fixed, 
no  amount  of  argument  would  avail  to  prove  its  injustice. 

Probably  the  very  morning  that  I  had  had  to  bide  the 
brunt  of  their  savage  rudeness,  and  had  been  disgusted  with 
their  ugliness,  had  seen  me  superintending  the  cleaning  of 
our  dormitory,  with  a  zeal  inspired  by  my  firm  belief  that 
before  we  could  be  called  good,  we  must  be  clean,  within  and 
without,  and  that  our  hearts,  our  persons,  and  our  dwellings, 
should  be  without  stain.  How  I  came  to  manifest  the  passion 
of  a  fanatic  for  order  and  cleanliness  I  know  not,  yet  when  it 
was  my  turn  to  clean  up  and  make  the  beds,  I  was  seized  with 
a  consuming  desire  to  exhibit  everything  at  its  best,  to  ar- 
range the  beds  without  a  single  crease  or  pucker,  to  make  the 
folds  with  mathematical  exactness,  to  dust  and  polish  cup- 
boards and  window-sills  until  they  were  speckless,  and  to 
make  the  flagstones  shine  like  mirrors.  'There,'  I  would  say 
to  my  companions  detailed  for  these  duties,  my  eyes  spark- 
ling with  pride,  '  that  is  the  way  to  wash  a  floor.  Let  us  make 
the  beds  fit  for  princes  to  sleep  in' ;  and  hard  after  this  triumph 
of  order  and  neatness  I  would  perhaps  be  despatched  to  the 
town  to  have  every  sense  offended  by  the  miracles  of  dirt  and 
disorder  in  and  around  the  Irish  Square.  No  wonder  that  we 
felt  unmitigated  scorn  for  Irish  habits  and  ways ! 

There  were  two  or  three  boys,  even  among  us,  whom  we 
should  have  exiled  among  the  Irish  had  we  the  power.  We 
felt  it  to  be  degradation  to  be  near  them  at  school.  One  was 
remarkable  for  a  pasty  complexion,  small,  piggish  eyes,  wThite 
eyelashes,  and  carroty  hair.  Another  had  projecting  goose- 
berry eyes,  which  suggested  that  they  might  fall  from  him 


22  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

some  day,  as  from  a  bush.  His  stubborn  soul  could  endure 
thumping  without  bellowing,  though  a  tear  or  two  would 
trickle.  His  mouth  was  like  that  of  a  beast,  and  garnished 
with  great,  jagged  teeth ;  and,  altogether,  he  was  so  unlovely 
as  to  shock  every  sense  in  us.  Between  Francis  and  ourselves, 
they  had  a  hard  time  of  it ;  and  I  often  wonder  how  fate  has 
disposed  of  them  during  this  long  interval. 

When  I  reached  my  eleventh  year,  the  king  of  the  school 
for  beauty  and  amiability  was  a  boy  of  about  my  own  age, 
named  Willie  Roberts.  Some  of  us  believed  that  he  belonged 
to  a  very  superior  class  to  our  own.  His  coal-black  hair  curled 
in  profusion  over  a  delicately  moulded  face  of  milky  whiteness. 
His  eyes  were  soft  and  limpid,  and  he  walked  with  a  carriage 
which  tempted  imitation.  Beyond  these  indications  of  him 
I  remember  but  little,  for  just  then  I  fell  ill  with  some  child- 
ish malady  which  necessitated  my  removal  to  the  infirmary, 
where  I  lay  for  weeks.  But  as  I  was  becoming  convalescent  I 
was  startled  by  a  rumour  that  he  had  suddenly  died. 

When  I  heard  that  his  body  was  in  the  dead-house  I  felt 
stricken  with  a  sense  of  irreparable  loss.  As  the  infirmary 
opened  upon  the  court-yard  which  contained  our  morgue, 
some  of  the  boys  suggested  that  it  might  be  possible  to  view 
him,  and,  prompted  by  a  fearful  curiosity  to  know  what  death 
was  like,  we  availed  ourselves  of  a  favourable  opportunity, 
and  entered  the  house  with  quaking  hearts.  The  body  lay  on 
a  black  bier,  and,  covered  with  a  sheet,  appeared  uncommonly 
long  for  a  boy.  One  of  the  boldest  drew  the  cloth  aside,  and 
at  the  sight  of  the  waxen  face  with  its  awful  fixity  we  all 
started  back,  gazing  at  it  as  if  spell-bound.  There  was  some- 
thing grand  in  its  superb  disregard  of  the  chill  and  gloom  of 
the  building,  and  in  the  holy  calm  of  the  features.  It  was  the 
face  of  our  dear  Willie,  with  whom  we  had  played,  and  yet 
not  the  same,  for  an  inexplicable  aloofness  had  come  over  it. 
We  yearned  to  cry  out  to  him  to  wake,  but  dared  not,  for 
the  solemnity  of  his  face  was  appalling. 

Presently  the  sheet  was  drawn  further  away,  and  we  then 
saw  what  one  of  us  had  insinuated  might  be  seen.  The  body 
was  livid,  and  showed  scores  of  dark  weals.  One  glance  was 
enough,  and,  hastily  covering  it,  we  withdrew,  with  minds 
confirmed  in  the  opinion  that  signs  of  violence  would  appear 


THE  WORKHOUSE  23 

after  death  as  testimonies  against  him  who  was  guilty  of  it. 
After  what  we  had  seen,  it  would  have  been  difficult  for  any- 
one to  have  removed  from  our  minds  the  impression  that 
Francis  was  accountable  for  Willie's  death. 

For  weeks  after  this  my  first  thought  in  the  morning  was  of 
Willie's  dead  face,  and,  in  consequence,  I  could  not  help  looking 
into  every  face  with  something  of  pity  that  mankind  should 
be  born  for  death  and  burial  in  the  cold  remorseless  earth. 
When  I  re-entered  the  school  I  found  myself  curiously  re- 
garding Francis,  and  wondering  that  he  was  so  insensible  to 
the  miserable  fate  in  store  for  him,  and  that  he  could  be  so 
pitiless  in  his  cruelty  to  his  fellow-sufferers.  What  would  he 
say,  I  thought,  when  the  Judge,  who  would  come  to  judge  the 
quick  and  the  dead,  would  ask  him,  'What  hast  thou  done  to 
thy  brother  Willie?' 

Some  time  after  Willie's  death,  George,  the  scholar,  and  I 
became  as  chummy  as  twin  brothers.  He  was  not  so  amiable 
as  Willie,  but  we  believed  him  to  be  severely  good,  and  far 
more  learned,  by  which  he  obtained  our  respect.  He  was  not 
a  zealous  friend,  and  after  some  intimacy  with  him  I  was  often 
chilled  with  what  appeared  to  be  selfishness  in  him.  It  may 
have  been  that  I  was  too  exacting,  but  I  certainly  thought 
that  it  was  not  in  his  nature  to  be  scrupulous  in  the  keeping  of 
the  pact  of  chumship.  If  a  cake  or  an  apple  was  to  be  divided 
into  two,  an  uneasy  feeling  came  over  me  that  he  took  pains 
to  pick  out  the  larger  half,  and  in  any  dispute  with  other 
boys  George  was  not  so  resolutely  insistent  on  my  behalf 
as  the  vow  of  brotherhood  demanded.  After  a  few  weeks  of 
effort  to  make  inward  apologies  for  his  laxity  and  backward- 
ness, it  was  forced  upon  me  that  he  was  by  nature  indifferent 
to  his  obligations,  and  it  was  agreed  that  each  should  be  a 
friend  unto  himself  for  the  future.  There  was  no  quarrel, 
however,  but  we  parted  with  mutual  respect. 

About  this  period  I  came  across  a  pious  romance  —  the 
title  of  which  is  forgotten  —  relating  to  three  young  brothers 
or  friends,  —  one  of  whom  I  remember  was  named  Enoch,  — 
who  for  their  perfect  piety  were  attended  by  a  Guardian 
Angel.  They  had  set  out  on  travels  through  a  land  which 
must  have  been  subtropical,  from  its  luxurious  vegetation 
and  its  beflowered  scenes ;  but  whatever  might  be  the  perils 


24  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

they  encountered,  or  the  temptations  that  beset  them,  the 
unseen  guardian  was  always  near  them,  and  made  them 
strong,  confident,  and  victorious.  The  stories  of  Joseph, 
David,  and  Daniel,  and  the  three  brave  youths  at  Babylon 
had  powerfully  affected  me,  but,  unfortunately,  their  asso- 
ciations with  tasks  and  rods  had  marred  their  attractions. 
My  delight  in  saintly  Enoch  and  his  friends  was  unalloyed 
by  any  such  bitter  memories.  The  story  was  also  written  in 
an  easy  every-day  language,  and  the  scenes  were  laid  in  a 
country  wherein  God's  presence  was  still  felt.  God  had  de- 
parted from  Canaan,  and  He  had  cast  off  Israel,  and  now  His 
protection  was  vouchsafed  to  all  the  children  of  men  without 
distinction,  and  only  piety  and  prayer  were  needed  to  secure 
His  aid  in  times  of  distress. 

Above  the  fireplaces  in  the  schoolroom,  the  two  dormi- 
tories, and  dining-hall,  were  tacked  painted  iron  sheets  which 
were  inscribed  with  appropriate  Scriptural  texts.  We  had 
Bible  lessons  morning  and  evening,  collects  and  gospels  to 
commit  to  memory.  Our  shelves  held  a  fair  collection  of 
religious  literature,  —  memoirs  of  Wesley,  Fletcher,  lives  of 
Bunyan,  Fox,  Milton,  and  others  of  less  note,  sermons,  and 
commentaries.  Twice  on  Sunday  we  had  full  services,  and 
after  supper  the  porter  of  the  establishment,  who  was  a  Meth- 
odist of  super-fervid  zeal,  would  treat  us  to  a  lengthy  and 
noisy  prayer,  which,  as  I  think  of  it  now,  was  rather  a  tedious 
string  of  adjurations  to,  and  incriminations  of  the  Almighty, 
than  a  supplication  for  grace  to  the  Creator. 

But  all  these  religious  exercises  and  literature  had  not  such 
direct  immediate  effect  as  this  romantic  novelette.  I  now 
conceived  God  to  be  a  very  real  personage,  as  active  to-day  as 
in  Biblical  periods  in  His  supervision  of  mundane  concerns. 
I  fancied  God's  Presence  visible  in  many  small  events,  but,  to 
obtain  the  Divine  interposition  in  one's  favour,  it  was  neces- 
sary to  earnestly  solicit  it,  and  to  be  worthy  of  it  by  perfect  sin- 
lessness.  Here  was  a  great  difficulty.  It  was  not  possible  to 
be  wholly  free  from  sin  in  our  circumstances.  I  observed  that 
our  seniors,  though  they  punctiliously  went  through  the  forms 
of  prayer,  were  none  of  them  blameless.  They  were  cruelly 
unkind,  they  were  unjust  in  their  punishments,  they  were 
censorious  without  cause,  and  most  ungentle.  They  asked  for 


THE  WORKHOUSE  25 

God's  forgiveness  for  their  trespasses,  but  were  relentless  in 
their  condemnation  of  the  smallest  fault  we  committed.  When 
I  came  to  think  of  that  beast  Will  Thomas,  and  that  imp 
Davies,  and  that  tale-bearer  and  mischief-maker  Williams, 
my  gorge  rose  against  them,  and  I  felt  that  the  circumstances 
of  Enoch's  life  were  not  like  mine. 

However,  I  made  a  grand  effort  to  free  myself  from  my 
vanity  and  pride.  I  compelled  myself  for  a  season  to  make 
the  sacrifices  demanded  of  me.  I  championed  ugly  Will 
against  his  oppressors,  and  suppressed  my  scorn  of  Davies. 
I  strove  to  like  Williams,  though  I  feared  he  was  incorrigible. 
I  sought  to  surprise  each  of  them  with  good  offices,  and  in  the 
process  endured  much  contumely,  because  human  beings  are 
so  prone  to  misconstrue  one's  actions.  I  rose  at  midnight  to 
wrestle  in  secret  with  my  wicked  self,  and,  while  my  school- 
fellows sweetly  reposed,  I  was  on  my  knees,  laying  my  heart 
bare  before  Him  who  knows  all  things,  vowing  that  the  next 
day  should  be  a  witness  of  my  sincerity,  and  that  I  would 
have  no  fear  of  derision  for  attempts  at  well-doing.  I  would 
promise  to  abstain  from  wishing  for  more  food,  and,  to  show 
how  I  despised  the  stomach  and  its  pains,  I  would  divide  one 
meal  out  of  the  three  among  my  neighbours;  half  my  suet 
pudding  should  be  given  to  Ffoulkes,  who  was  afflicted  with 
greed,  and,  if  ever  I  possessed  anything  that  excited  the  envy 
of  another,  I  would  at  once  surrender  it.  Greater  proof  than 
these  of  my  resolve  to  be  perfect  I  thought  I  could  not  show, 
and  when  I  had  done  my  part,  I  hoped  to  see  the  sign  of  God's 
favour  in  milder  treatment  by  Francis. 

I  cannot  recollect  that  the  season  which  I  devoted  to  the 
subjection  of  self  witnessed  the  lenity  which  I  anticipated,  or 
that  it  had  any  effect  beyond  a  feeling  of  physical  weakness ; 
but,  indirectly,  I  am  not  sure  that  it  was  wholly  without  gain. 
Without  the  faith  which  supported  me,  I  might  never  have 
thought  of  experimenting  on  Will  and  practising  it  on  myself, 
my  dislikes,  and  passions,  and  placing  them  at  the  service 
of  those  I  had  despised ;  and  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the 
feeling  of  friendlessness  was  soothed.  It  was  a  comfort  to 
know  that  though  without  a  parent,  relation,  or  friend  on 
earth  to  turn  to,  I  had  a  Father  in  Heaven  before  Whom  I 
was  the  equal  of  the  mightiest. 


26  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

I  believed  in  the  immediate  presence  of  Angels  who  were 
deputed  to  attend  us  for  our  protection,  that  the  emissaries  of 
the  Evil  One  ranged  about  during  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
seeking  to  wreak  their  spite  against  those  averse  to  them,  and 
I  believed  that  the  frightful  dreams  from  which  we  sometimes 
suffered  were  due  to  their  machinations. 

Sometimes  I  woke  up  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  after  a 
tremendous  struggle  with  a  nightmare,  and,  gaspingly  look- 
ing out,  fancied  I  saw  the  evil  spirits  crowding  the  darkness 
and  sailing  about  like  huge  fantastic  microbes,  or  standing, 
shadowy-grey,  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  I  would  rub  my  eyes 
hard  for  a  clearer  vision,  and  I  would  observe  them  retreat 
against  the  cold  bare  walls.  Within,  all  was  terror  and  con- 
fusion, entreaties  to  Heaven  for  protection,  admonition  re- 
specting some  neglect  of  prayer,  or  coldness  in  devotion ;  and 
I  would  rise  from  bed  on  being  thus  informed  of  the  remedy, 
and  indulge  in  the  sacred  theft  of  prayer  with  the  humbleness 
due  from  a  little  child  praying  to  the  Universal  Father  and 
Creator. 

If,  by  accident,  I  was  discovered,  the  day  following  was 
certain  to  be  one  of  torture,  an  opprobrious  nickname,  or 
bitter  gibe,  taunts,  immodest  expressions  or  gestures ;  every 
kind  of  conspiracy  would  be  made  to  excite  the  demon  that 
lurks  within  every  human  breast,  so  that  by  night,  what  with 
hate  of  my  fellows,  burning  anger  at  their  atrocious  conduct, 
remorse  for  having  succumbed  to  rage  at  their  wicked  prac- 
tices, I  had  collapsed  from  my  virtuous  state,  to  be  again 
brought  to  my  sense  of  inborn  sinfulness  by  some  nightly 
visitation,  or  a  curious  gush  of  tearful  repentance,  and  an 
agony  of  longing  for  the  love  of  some  human  being. 

The  religious  convictions  of  my  childhood  were  too  intense 
and  real  to  omit  recalling  them.  Often  it  appeared  as  though 
it  were  wholly  useless  to  struggle  against  evil,  yet  there  was 
an  infinitesimal  improvement  in  each  stage.  The  character 
was  becoming  more  and  more  developed.  The  temper  was 
becoming  firmer.  Experience  was  teaching  me  something  of 
that  great  lesson  of  life  which  enables  one  to  view  more 
calmly  lapses  of  condition. 

y    Thus  there  are  two  things  for  which  I  feel  grateful  to  this 
strange  institution  of  St.  Asaph.   My  fellow-man  had  denied 


THE  WORKHOUSE  27 

to  me  the  charm  of  affection,  and  the  bliss  of  a  home,  but 
through  his  charity  I  had  learned  to  know  God  by  faith,  as  the 
Father  of  the  fatherless,  and  I  had  been  taught  to  read.  It  is 
impossible  that  in  a  Christian  land  like  Wales  I  could  have 
avoided  contracting  some  knowledge  of  the  Creator,  but  the 
knowledge  which  is  gained  by  hearing  is  very  different  from 
that  which  comes  from  feeling.  Nor  is  it  likely  that  I  would 
have  remained  altogether  ignorant  of  letters.  Being  as  I  was, 
however,  the  circumstances  of  my  environment  necessarily 
focussed  my  attention  on  religion,  and  my  utterly  friendless 
state  drove  me  to  seek  the  comfort  guaranteed  by  it. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  reveal  myself,  according  to  the 
general  promise  involved  in  the  title  of  this  book,  if  I  were  to 
be  silent  regarding  my  religious  convictions.  Were  I  to  remain 
silent,  the  true  key  to  the  actions  of  my  life  would  be  missing. 
Or,  rather,  let  me  try  to  put  the  matter  more  clearly:  the 
secret  influence  which  inspired  what  good  I  may  have  done  in 
life,  for  the  same  reason  prevented  me  from  doing  evil,  curbed 
passion,  guided  me  when  the  fires  of  youth,  licentious  company, 
irreverent  mates,  and  a  multitude  of  strange  circumstances 
must  have  driven  me  into  a  confirmed  state  of  wickedness. 

I  was  therefore  grateful,  after  all,  for  the  implanting  of 
religious  principles  in  me  by  the  Biblical  education  given  me 
in  the  Union.  The  fear  of  doing  wrong  intentionally,  the 
feeling  of  reverence,  the  impulse  of  charity,  the  possession  of  a 
conscience,  are  all  due  to  this.  Without  this  teaching  I  should 
have  been  little  superior  to  the  African  savage.  It  has  been  the 
driving  power  for  good,  the  arrestor  of  evil.  It  has  given  me 
an  acute  and  perceptive  monitor,  able  by  its  own  delicacy  to 
perceive  evil  no  matter  how  deceptive  its  guise.  It  has  formed 
a  magnet  by  which  to  steer  more  straightly  than  I  could  other- 
wise have  done. 

My  belief  that  there  was  a  God,  overseeing  every  action, 
observing  and  remembering,  has  come  often  between  me  and 
evil.  Often  when  sorely  tempted,  came  the  sudden  strength 
to  say,  'No,  I  will  not,  it  will  be  wicked;  not  criminal,  but 
sinful ;  God  sees  me.'  It  is  precisely  for  this  strength  that  I  am 
grateful.  Reason  would  not  have  been  sufficient  to  restrain 
me  from  yielding  to  temptation.  It  required  a  conscience,  and 
a  religious  conviction  created  it.   That  same  inward  monitor 


28  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

has  restrained  me  from  uttering  idle  words,  from  deceiving 
my  fellow-creatures  with  false  promises,  and  from  hastily 
condemning  them  without  sufficient  evidence,  from  listening 
to  slanders,  and  from  joining  with  them,  from  yielding  to 
vindictiveness ;  it  has  softened  a  nature  that  without  its  silent 
and  gentle  admonitions  would,  I  am  sure,  be  much  worse  than 
it  is.  I  do  not  claim  that  it  has  always  been  successful,  — 
far  from  it,  —  but  I  am  grateful  for  what  it  has  done ;  and  this 
feeling,  so  long  as  I  possess  it,  will  induce  me  to  hope  that  it 
will  ever  remain  with  me,  a  restraining  power,  a  monitor  to  do 
my  duty  to  my  Creator,  and  to  my  fellow-men. 

Whether  these  religious  convictions  would  have  continued 
with  me  had  I  lived  the  life  of  the  city  is  another  question. 
I  think  not.  At  least,  not  in  sufficient  force.  A  journalist's 
life  in  New  York  does  not  give  time  for  reflection  or  intro- 
spection. 

Religion  grew  deep  roots  in  me  in  the  solitude  of  Africa,  so 
that  it  became  my  mentor  in  civilization,  my  director,  my 
spiritual  guide.  With  religious  conviction  we  can  make  real 
and  substantial  progress;  it  gives  body,  pith,  and  marrow; 
without  it,  so-called  progress  is  empty  and  impermanent,  — 
for  without  the  thought  of  God  we  are  tossed  about  on  a  sea 
of  uncertainty ;  for  what  is  our  earth  compared  with  the  vast 
universe  of  worlds  in  unmeasurable  space?  But  above  all 
the  vastness  of  infinity,  of  which  the  thoughts  of  the  wisest 
men  can  extend  to  but  an  infinitesimal  fraction,  is  the  Divine 
and  Almighty  Intellect  which  ordered  all  this ;  and  to  Him  I 
turn,  —  the  Source  of  the  highest  energy,  the  Generator  of  the 
principle  of  duty. 

-^In  the  adults'  ward  at  St.  Asaph  was  a  harmless  imbecile, 
named  John  Holywell,  who  had  been  a  resident  of  the  house 
for  about  a  score  of  years.  He  was  now  over  fifty,  and  was 
likely  to  remain  until  his  body  was  conveyed  to  a  pauper's 
grave.  As  his  fate,  so  mine  promised,  except  that  I  could 
pray  and  read. 

Tyranny  of  the  grossest  kind  lashed  and  scowled  at  us  every 
waking  hour,  but  even  Will  Thomas  possessed  something  that 
I  had  not.  He  had  relations  who  occasionally  visited  him 
with  gifts ;  but  I  was  alone,  none  ever  came  to  see  me. 

I  must  have  been  twelve  ere  I  knew  that  a  mother  was 


THE  WORKHOUSE  29 

indispensable  to  every  child.  To  most  boys  of  twelve  such  a 
simple  fact  must  have  been  obvious,  but  as  my  grandsire  and 
nurse  had  sufficed  for  my  earliest  wants,  the  necessity  for  a 
mother  had  not  been  manifest  to  me.  Now  that  I  was  told  my 
mother  had  entered  the  house  with  two  children,  my  first 
feeling  was  one  of  exultation  that  I  also  had  a  mother,  and  a 
half-brother  and  a  half-sister,  and  the  next  was  one  of  curiosity 
to  know  what  they  were  like,  and  whether  their  appearance 
portended  a  change  in  my  condition. 

Francis  came  up  to  me  during  the  dinner-hour,  when  all  the 
inmates  were  assembled,  and,  pointing  out  a  tall  woman  with 
an  oval  face,  and  a  great  coil  of  dark  hair  behind  her  head, 
asked  me  if  I  recognised  her. 

'No,  Sir,'  I  replied. 

'What,  do  you  not  know  your  own  mother?* 

I  started,  with  a  burning  face,  and  directed  a  shy  glance  at 
her,  and  perceived  she  was  regarding  me  with  a  look  of  cool, 
critical  scrutiny.  I  had  expected  to  feel  a  gush  of  tenderness 
towards  her,  but  her  expression  was  so  chilling  that  the  valves 
of  my  heart  closed  as  with  a  snap.  'Honour  thy  father  and 
mother,'  had  been  repeated  by  me  a  thousand  times,  but  this 
loveless  parent  required  no  honour  from  me.  After  a  few 
weeks'  residence  my  mother  departed,  taking  her  little  boy 
with  her,  but  the  girl  was  left  in  the  institution ;  and,  such  is 
the  system  prevailing,  though  we  met  in  the  same  hall  for 
months,  she  remained  as  a  stranger  to  me. 

Among  the  notable  incidents  of  this  age  was  the  suicide  of 
the  Governor,  who  through  some  mental  strain  ended  his  life 
with  a  razor.  Then  there  was  a  burglary,  or  an  attempt  at  one, 
in  our  schoolroom.  We  found  one  morning  that  one  of  the 
windows  had  been  forced  open,  the  poker  lay  on  the  table, 
and  there  were  traces  of  the  bookshelves  and  desks  having 
been  ransacked.  After  that,  handsome  Harry  Ogden,  who 
had  been  sent  to  Kinmel  on  an  errand,  returned  highly  in- 
toxicated, which  made  us  boys  marvel  at  his  audacity.  Then 
Barney  Williams,  one  of  the  cleverest  boys  in  the  school,  was 
detected  stealing  stamps  from  the  master's  letters,  which 
offence  was  brought  to  the  notice  of  the  Guardians,  and  was 
punished  by  a  public  birching,  as  much,  we  believed,  to  the 
satisfaction  of  Francis  as  to  the  anguish  of  poor  Barney. 


3o  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

Bishop  Short  having  presented  to  us  some  skeleton  draw- 
ings and  views  of  cathedrals,  I  took  to  copying  them,  and  in 
a  few  months  had  acquired  such  excellence  that  my  reputation 
spread  wide  in  our  circle.  Francis  affected  to  believe  that  I 
was  destined  for  a  'limner.'  The  Bishop  rewarded  me  with 
a  Bible  bearing  his  autograph.  Miss  Smalley,  of  Cwm,  pre- 
sented me  with  a  drawing-book  and  pencils,  and  I  was  intro- 
duced to  a  number  of  notabilities  around  as  the  'artist'  of  the 
school.  Other  small  accomplishments  tended  to  bring  me 
into  prominence.  My  recitations  were  much  admired.  On 
our  annual  holidays  I  was  selected  to  lead  the  choir  of  glee- 
singers,  and,  after  the  Government  Inspector's  examinations, 
I  was  pronounced  to  be  the  most  advanced  pupil. 

I  have  no  idea  of  my  personal  appearance  at  this  time,  but  I 
remember  to  have  heard  some  comments  from  bystanders  as  we 
bathed  at  Rhyl  which  made  me  blush  violently,  also  Captain 
Thomas  saying  that  it  would  be  of  vast  benefit  to  me  if  I  were 
put  under  a  garden-roller.  An  old  blacksmith  of  Denbigh,  as  I 
passed  him  one  day,  asked  me  if  I  was  not  the  grandson  of 
Moses  Parry,  and  on  my  admitting  it,  pretended  that  I  could 
not  belong  to  the  big-boned  Parry  breed;  while  one  that 
stood  by  him  terrified  me  by  saying  that  I  would  be  in  prime 
order  for  eating,  after  a  month's  stuffing  on  raisins  and 
sweeties.  From  an  early  age  I  contracted  an  intense  dislike  to 
these  wretched  personalities. 

In  process  of  time  my  classmates,  who  had  grown  with  me, 
and  been  promoted  simultaneously  with  myself,  and  now 
filled  the  first  form,  began  to  be  taken  away  by  their  relatives, 
or  entered  service.  Benjie  Phillips  became  a  page  of  Captain 
Thomas.  When  we  saw  him  arrayed  in  his  beautiful  livery, 
George,  the  scholar,  and  I  thought  fortune  most  unkind  and 
indiscriminating ;  but,  looking  backward,  both  of  us  must  con- 
fess that,  like  fools,  we  knew  not  what  was  good  for  us.  For- 
tune had  reserved  us  for  other  work,  but  before  we  should  be 
called  we  were  fated  to  be  tried  a  little  more. 

'Time  teaches  us  that  oft  One  Higher, 
Unasked,  a  happier  lot  bestows 
Than  if  each  blighted  dream's  desire 
Had  blossomed  as  the  rose.' 

Barney  was  the  next  to  leave.  Toomis,  the  calculator,  found 


THE  WORKHOUSE  31 

employment  with  the  Whiteley  of  the  neighbourhood ;  and, 
finally,  George,  the  scholar,  was  claimed  by  an  uncle  to  be 
prepared  for  the  ministry. 

When,  in  1856,  the  time  came  for  Francis's  annual  visit  to 
his  friends  at  Mold,  he  appointed  me  his  deputy  over  the 
school.  On  the  very  first  day  of  his  absence,  a  boy  named 
David,  my  especial  bete  noire  on  the  play-ground,  and  whose 
malice  was  a  source  of  trouble  to  me,  thought  fit  to  question 
my  fitness  for  the  post,  and  persisted  in  noisy  demonstrations 
against  my  authority.  For  a  while  the  serious  nature  of  a 
conflict  with  one  who  had  often  proved  himself  my  superior 
in  strength  restrained  me  from  noticing  his  breach  of  order. 
The  sharp-witted  boys  of  the  first  class  observed  this  reluc- 
tance, and  rightly  accounted  for  it.  They  also  soon  became 
insolently  boisterous,  and  I  had  to  cry  'Silence!'  as  imperi- 
ously as  possible.  There  was  an  instant's  hush  from  habit  at 
the  word,  but,  overcoming  their  first  fear,  and  prompted  by 
mischievous  David,  the  buzz  was  resumed,  and  soon  became 
intolerable. 

I  strode  up  in  front  of  David,  and  ordered  him  to  take  his 
stand  at  the  Dunce's  corner,  which  he  scornfully  declined  at 
once.  He  dared  me  to  compel  him,  and  added  biting  words 
about  my  puny  strength  and  impudence.  Instinctively,  the 
school  felt  that  an  exciting  struggle  was  impending,  and  sus- 
pended their  restlessness.  I  was  forced  to  accept  David's 
challenge,  but  when  his  sinewy  arms  embraced  me  I  would 
gladly  have  compromised  with  him  had  my  pride  permitted, 
for  the  unbending  rigidity  of  his  stiff  back  was  terrifying  to 
think  of.  We  contended  breathlessly  for  some  time,  but, 
finally,  I  succeeded  in  kicking  his  stubborn  pins  from  under 
him,  and  he  fell  heavily  undermost.  In  a  few  seconds  I  rode  in 
triumph  over  his  prostrate  form,  and  demanded  his  submis- 
sion, which  he  sullenly  refused.  Dicky,  more  friendly  than  the 
others,  came  forward  at  the  call  with  a  woollen  muffler,  and 
with  his  assistance  I  made  David  captive,  and  after  binding 
the  tense  arms  conducted  him  to  the  opprobrious  corner, 
where  he  was  left  to  meditate,  with  two  others  similarly 
guilty.  From  the  hour  when  the  heroic  whelp,  David,  was 
subdued,  my  authority  was  undisputed.  Often  since  have  I 
learned  how  necessary  is  the  application  of  force  for  the  estab- 


32  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

lishment  of  order.  There  comes  a  time  when  pleading  is  of  no 

avail. 

Not  many  weeks  after  Francis  had  returned  from  Mold, 
an  event  occurred  which  had  a  lasting  influence  on  my  life. 
But  for  the  stupid  and  brutal  scene  which  brought  it  about, 
I  might  eventually  have  been  apprenticed  to  some  trade  or 
another,  and  would  have  mildewed  in  Wales,  because,  with 
some  knowledge  of  my  disposition,  I  require  great  cause  to 
break  away  from  associations.  Unknown  to  myself,  and  un- 
perceived  by  anyone  else,  I  had  arrived  at  the  parting  of  the 
ways.  Unconsciously  I  had  contracted  ideas  about  dignity, 
and  the  promise  of  manhood  was  manifest  in  the  first  buds  of 
pride,  courage,  and  resolution ;  but  our  school-master,  exposed 
to  moods  of  savage  temper,  and  arbitrary  from  habit,  had 
failed  to  notice  the  change. 

i^In  May,  1856,  a  new  deal  table  had  been  ordered  for  the 
school,  and  some  heedless  urchin  had  dented  its  surface  by 
standing  on  it,  which  so  provoked  Francis  that  he  fell  into  a 
furious  rage,  and  uttered  terrific  threats  with  the  air  of  one 
resolved  on  massacre.  He  seized  a  birch  which,  as  yet,  had 
not  been  bloodied,  and,  striding  furiously  up  to  the  first  class, 
he  demanded  to  know  the  culprit.  It  was  a  question  that 
most  of  us  would  have  preferred  to  answer  straight  off ;  but 
we  were  all  absolutely  ignorant  that  any  damage  had  been 
made,  and  probably  the  author  of  it  was  equally  unaware  of 
it.  No  one  could  remember  to  have  seen  anyone  standing  on 
the  table,  and  in  what  other  manner  mere  dents  had  been 
impressed  in  the  soft  deal  wood  was  inexplicable.  We  all 
answered  accordingly. 

'Very  well,  then,'  said  he,  'the  entire  class  will  be  flogged, 
and,  if  confession  is  not  made,  I  will  proceed  with  the  second, 
and  afterwards  with  the  third.   Unbutton.' 

He  commenced  at  the  foot  of  the  class,  and  there  was  the 
usual  yelling,  and  writhing,  and  shedding  of  showers  of  tears. 
One  or  two  of  David's  oaken  fibre  submitted  to  the  lacerating 
strokes  with  a  silent  squirm  or  two,  and  now  it  was  fast  ap- 
proaching my  turn ;  but  instead  of  the  old  timidity  and  other 
symptoms  of  terror,  I  felt  myself  hardening  for  resistance. 
He  stood  before  me  vindictively  glaring,  his  spectacles  in- 
tensifying the  gleam  of  his  eyes. 


THE  WORKHOUSE  33 

'How  is  this?'  he  cried  savagely.  'Not  ready  yet?  Strip, 
sir,  this  minute;  I  mean  to  stop  this  abominable  and  bare- 
faced lying.' 

1 1  did  not  lie,  sir.   I  know  nothing  of  it.' 

'Silence,  sir.  Down  with  your  clothes.' 

'Never  again,'  I  shouted,  marvelling  at  my  own  audacity. 

The  words  had  scarcely  escaped  me  ere  I  found  myself 
swung  upward  into  the  air  by  the  collar  of  my  jacket,  and 
flung  into  a  nerveless  heap  on  the  bench.  Then  the  passionate 
brute  pummelled  me  in  the  stomach  until  I  fell  backward, 
gasping  for  breath.  Again  I  was  lifted,  and  dashed  on  the 
bench  with  a  shock  that  almost  broke  my  spine.  What  little 
sense  was  left  in  me  after  these  repeated  shocks  made  me 
aware  that  I  was  smitten  on  the  cheeks,  right  and  left,  and 
that  soon  nothing  would  be  left  of  me  but  a  mass  of  shattered 
nerves  and  bruised  muscles. 

Recovering  my  breath,  finally,  from  the  pounding  in  the 
stomach,  I  aimed  a  vigorous  kick  at  the  cruel  Master  as  he 
stooped  to  me,  and,  by  chance,  the  booted  foot  smashed  his 
glasses,  and  almost  blinded  him  with  their  splinters.  Starting 
backward  with  the  excruciating  pain,  he  contrived  to  stumble 
over  a  bench,  and  the  back  of  his  head  struck  the  stone  floor ; 
but,  as  he  was  in  the  act  of  falling,  I  had  bounded  to  my  feet, 
and  possessed  myself  of  his  blackthorn.  Armed  with  this,  I 
rushed  at  the  prostrate  form,  and  struck  him  at  random  over 
his  body,  until  I  was  called  to  a  sense  of  what  I  was  doing  by 
the  stirless  way  he  received  the  thrashing.  • 

I  was  exceedingly  puzzled  what  to  do  now.  My  rage  had 
vanished,  and,  instead  of  triumph,  there  came  a  feeling  that, 
perhaps,  I  ought  to  have  endured,  instead  of  resisting.  Some 
one  suggested  that  he  had  better  be  carried  to  his  study,  and 
we  accordingly  dragged  him  along  the  floor  to  the  Master's 
private  room,  and  I  remember  well  how  some  of  the  infants 
in  the  fourth  room  commenced  to  howl  with  unreasoning 
terror. 

After  the  door  had  been  closed  on  him,  a  dead  silence,  com- 
paratively, followed.  My  wits  were  engaged  in  unravelling  a 
way  out  of  the  curious  dilemma  in  which  I  found  myself.  The 
overthrow  of  the  Master  before  the  school  appeared  to  indi- 
cate a  new  state  of  things.   Having  successfully  resisted  once, 


34  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

it  involved  a  continued  resistance,  for  one  would  die  before 
submitting  again.  My  friend  Mose  asked  me  in  a  whisper  if  I 
knew  what  was  to  happen.  Was  the  Master  dead  ?  The  hideous 
suggestion  changed  the  whole  aspect  of  my  thoughts.  My 
heart  began  to  beat,  as  my  imagination  conjured  up  unknown 
consequences  of  the  outrage  to  authority ;  and  I  was  in  a  mood 
to  listen  to  the  promptings  of  Mose  that  we  should  abscond. 
I  assented  to  his  proposal,  but,  first,  I  sent  a  boy  to  find  out 
the  condition  of  the  Master,  and  was  relieved  to  find  that  he 
was  bathing  his  face. 

Mose  and  I  instantly  left  the  school,  for  the  ostensible 
purpose  of  washing  the  blood  from  my  face ;  but,  as  a  fact, 
we  climbed  over  the  garden-wall  and  dropped  into  Conway's 
field,  and  thence  hastened  through  the  high  corn  in  the  Bod- 
fari  direction,  as  though  pursued  by  bloodhounds. 

This,  then,  was  the  result  of  the  folly  and  tyranny  of  Fran- 
cis. Boys  are  curious  creatures,  innocent  as  angels,  proud  as 
princes,  spirited  as  heroes,  vain  as  peacocks,  stubborn  as 
donkeys,  silly  as  colts,  and  emotional  as  girls.  The  budding 
reason  is  so  young  and  tender  that  it  is  unable  to  govern  such 
composite  creatures.  Much  may  be  done  with  kindness,  as 
much  may  be  done  with  benevolent  justice,  but  undeserved 
cruelty  is  almost  sure  to  ruin  them. 

We  ran  away  with  a  boundless  belief  that  beyond  the  walls 
lay  the  peopled  South  that  was  next  to  Heaven  for  happiness. 
The  singing  birds,  the  rolling  coaches,  the  tides  of  joyous 
intercourse,  the  family  groups,  the  happy  hearths,  the  smiling 
welcome  of  our  kind,  all  lay  beyond  the  gates,  and  these  we 
fled  to  meet,  with  the  innocence  of  kids. 


CHAPTER  II 
ADRIFT 

"WIT  XHATEVER  innocent  trust  I  may  have  entertained, 
^y^/  that  beyond  the  walled  domain  of  the  Union  House 

*  *  I  should  meet  with  glad  friends,  was  doomed  to  an 
early  disappointment.  I  had  often  dreamed  of  a  world  that 
was  next  to  Heaven  for  happiness.  Many  a  long  summer 
evening  I  had  spent  looking  out  of  our  windows  upon  the 
radiant  vale  of  Clwyd,  and  the  distant  lines  of  hills  which  rose 
beyond  leafy  Cefn,  exciting  my  imagination  by  the  recital  to 
myself  of  fanciful  delights,  which  I  believed  to  exist  beyond 
the  far  horizon.  The  tides  of  humanity,  as  they  swept  gaily 
over  the  highroad  in  view  of  our  gates,  had  seemed  very 
beautiful  and  happy ;  but,  at  the  first  contact  with  the  highly 
privileged  people  whom  we  met  on  the  turnpike,  they  did  not 
appear  so  gracious  to  me.  Whether  they  rolled-by  in  carriages, 
or  sat  on  the  coach,  enjoyed  the  air  at  the  cottage-door,  or 
smashed  stones  by  the  road-side,  drove  swift  gigs,  or  tramped 
afoot  like  ourselves,  all  alike  were  harsh  and  forbidding.  Even 
lads  of  our  own  age  and  frocked  children  assailed  us  with 
scorn  and  abuse. 

It  impressed  itself  on  me  that  we  were  outcasts.  We  wore 
the  Workhouse  livery,  and  this  revealed  the  sphere  we  belonged 
to,  to  all  who  met  us.  Beings  in  that  garb  had  no  business  on 
the  public  road  !  We  were  clearly  trespassers.  What  with  the 
guilty  feeling  of  having  absconded,  and  outraging  the  public 
sense  by  our  appearance  in  scenes  where  we  were  undoubted 
aliens,  we  began  to  feel  exceedingly  uncomfortable,  and  shrank 
from  the  view  of  every  one.  s        s  ' 

As  night  approached,  other/f&ieties  troubled  us  sorely. 
Where  should  we  sleep  ?  How"should  we  subsist  ?  We  could 
not  remain  always  in  hiding.  The  sun  was  about  setting  when 
we  came  across  a  disused  lime-kiln.  We  crept  through  the 
arch  into  the  open  bowl-like  interior.  By  cuddling  together, 
we  could  just  find  room  in  the  bottom  to  sleep ;  but,  as  it  was 


36  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

still  daylight,  our  feet  could  be  seen  through  the  opening  of 
the  arch  by  the  passers-by,  and  we  should  be  taken  prisoners. 
We  therefore  had  to  lean  on  the  sides  of  the  kiln  until  the 
darkness  came,  before  we  could  forget  our  misery  in  sleep.  In 
this  awkward  position  we  waited  silently  for  the  darkness. 

Our  limbs  ached  with  fatigue,  our  spirits  were  dejected. 
In  about  an  hour,  probably,  it  would  be  dark ;  but  in  such 
a  mood,  what  a  time  to  wait!  Many  illusions  disappeared. 
Nothing  of  what  I  had  seen  through  the  Workhouse  windows 
was  real.  I  had  been  all  the  time  dreaming,  having  taken  too 
seriously  facts  which  had  been  sugared  with  pleasantness  for 
our  childish  minds.  The  world  was  ugly,  cruel,  and  hard, 
and  all  grown-up  people  were  liars.  From  my  nurse  and  old 
women,  my  head  had  been  crammed  with  ghost  stories,  and 
I  had  become  a  believer  in  signs,  omens,  auguries,  and  fetish- 
ism, transmitted  to  me  by  foolish  peasants  from  our  tattooed 
ancestors,  until  the  clear  glass  of  my  mind  had  been  blurred ; 
and,  as  the  darkness  settled  over  me,  memories  of  its  spectral 
inhabitants  came  trooping  to  the  surface.  I  fancied  I  saw 
images  of  those  beings  who  haunt  the  dark  when  unguarded 
by  lock  and  bolt.  Through  the  top  and  arch  of  the  kiln,  we 
were  open  to  their  assaults.  I  became  nervously  watchful,  and, 
the  more  I  strained  my  eyes,  the  more  I  fancied  I  could  see 
naming  imps  acting  a  ceaseless  pantomime  of  malice.  Once 
or  twice  I  thought  I  felt  the  whiff  of  ghostly  wings,  and  my 
terror  caused  a  feeling  of  suffocation.  The  only  safe  thing  to 
do  was  to  talk,  tell  stories  to  each  other,  that  the  accursed 
spirits  might  know  we  were  awake  and  fearless.  I  continued 
awake  by  this  method  until  the  sky  began  to  pale  before  the 
advancing  dawn,  when  I  softly  dropped  into  sleep,  and  so 
passed  the  most  uneasy  night  I  remember. 

With  the  sunrise,  we  rose,  stiff  and  hungry,  to  resume  our 
flight.  By  preference,  we  clung  to  the  lanes,  as  being  the  safest 
for  fugitives  who  wore  the  parish  uniform ;  but,  near  Corwen, 
our  aching  vitals  compelled  us^to  brave  the  publicity  of  the  pike 
road.  We  halted,  at  last,  before  a  stone  cottage,  at  the  door 
of  which  a  stout  and  motherly  old  woman  stooped  over  a  wash- 
tub  resting  on  a  three-legged  stool.  Her  frilled  cap  looked 
very  white  and  clean.  A  flaxen-haired  baby  sat  astride  of  the 
door-sill,  beating  a  tom-tom  with  a  piece  of  china-ware.   Our 


ADRIFT  37 

desperately  famished  state  overcame  our  shyness,  and  we 
asked  for  a  piece  of  bread.  The  woman  braced  herself  up, 
and,  giving  us  a  compassionate  look,  said,  'You  seem  poorly, 
children.   Surely  you  don't  belong  to  these  parts?' 

'Xo,  ma'am,  we  belong  to  St.  Asaph.' 

'Oh,  yes.   You  are  from  the  Workhouse. ' 

'Yes,  ma'am.' 

She  invited  us  cordially  to  enter,  and,  opening  a  cupboard 
that  was  under  the  stairs,  drew  out  a  loaf.  She  cut  off  thick 
slices,  smeared  them  with  butter  and  treacle,  and,  filling  two 
large  mugs  with  buttermilk,  set  them  before  us,  and  bade  us 
4 eat  and  welcome.' 

After  such  kindness  it  was  not  difficult  to  win  our  confi- 
dence. I  well  remember  how  the  homely  clock,  with  its  face 
crowned  at  the  top  with  staring  red  flowers,  ticked  loudly 
during  the  pauses  of  our  narrative,  and  how  the  minute-hand 
flung  itself  recklessly  round  the  dial ;  how,  near  the  door,  the 
wash-tub  became  covered  with  a  scum  as  the  soap-bubbles 
exploded  one  by  one ;  how  the  good  woman  suckled  her  babe 
to  sleep,  as  we  talked.  The  coloured  picture  of  that  cottage 
stands  out  unfading  in  my  memory,  despite  the  varied  accu- 
mulations of  so  many  years. 

Having  been  strengthened  by  food,  and  comforted  with 
friendly  advice,  we  decided  it  would  be  best  to  push  on 
towards  Denbigh.  Night  overtook  us,  and  we  sought  the  lee 
of  a  haystack  in  a  field,  too  tired  to  fear  ghosts;  and,  early 
next  day,  drew  near  the  castled  town  we  both  loved  so  well. 

We  reached  the  foot  of  High  Street,  and  looked  with  envy 
at  the  shop-boys.  W7e  could  not  help  peeping  at  the  bright 
shop-windows  which  exposed  such  varied  wealth,  and  admir- 
ing those  singularly-favoured  people,  who  were  able  to  dis- 
pense such  assortments  of  luxuries  among  their  friends. 

Beyond  the  market-place  Mose  led  the  way  up  a  narrow 
lane  leading  towards  Castle  Green,  and,  shortly,  turned  in 
into  a  dingy  stone  house  near  a  bakery.  After  mounting  some 
steps  we  were  confronted  by  a  woman  who,  as  soon  as  she 
rested  her  eyes  upon  my  companion,  lifted  her  hands  up,  and 
cried  out  in  affectionate  Welsh,  — 

'Why  bless  their  little  hearts !  How  tired  they  look !  Come 
in,  dears,  both  of  you !' 


38  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

When  Mose  crossed  the  threshold  he  was  received  with  a 
sounding  kiss,  and  became  the  object  of  copious  endearments. 
He  was  hugged  convulsively  in  the  maternal  bosom,  patted 
on  the  back,  his  hair  was  frizzled  by  maternal  fingers,  and  I 
knew  not  whether  the  mother  was  weeping  or  laughing,  for 
tears  poured  over  smiles,  in  streams.  The  exhibition  of  fond 
love  was  not  without  its  effect  on  me,  for  I  learned  how  a 
mother  should  behave  to  her  boy. 

A  glow  of  comfort  warmed  our  hearts  as  she  bustled  about 
the  kitchen,  intent  upon  unusual  hospitality.  She  relieved 
us  of  our  caps,  dusted  a  polished  chair  for  each  of  us  with  her 
apron,  and  set  them  in  the  snug  ingle-corners,  laughing  and 
weeping  alternately,  and  sending  waves  of  emotion  careering 
over  us  out  of  sheer  sympathy.  She  burned  to  talk,  but  re- 
minded herself,  by  starts,  of  our  necessities,  making  us  smile 
at  her  self-reproaches,  her  hurried  attempts  to  snatch  the  food 
from  the  shelves  of  her  dresser,  and  her  evident  intention  to  be 
bountiful.  She,  finally,  arranged  a  table,  and,  from  a  new  tin- 
loaf,  cut  out  generous  breadths,  on  which  she  dropped  circles 
of  black  treacle,  and  pressed  them  into  our  hands.  After 
piling  other  lavishly-buttered  slices  on  a  plate  near  by,  the 
boiling  water  was  poured  over  the  tea,  and  not  until  she  had 
seen  us  well  engaged  on  her  bounties  did  she  slacken  her 
haste.  Then,  bringing  a  high-backed  chair  between  us,  she 
laid  one  hand  on  the  other  in  her  lap,  and  exclaimed.  — 

1  Dear  heart  alive,  how  you  have  grown,  Mose,  my  lad  !  It 
makes  my  heart  thump  to  see  you  so  beautiful  and  clever- 
looking.  Are  not  you  very  clever  now?  And  don't  you  know 
just  everything,  writing  and  ciphering,  and  all  that,  you 
know?  But  what  is  the  matter,  children?  How  is  it  you  have 
come  to  Denbigh  ?  Have  you  been  sent  on  errands,  or  have 
you  run  away?   Don't  be  bashful,  but  tell  me  truly.' 

When  Mose  had  related  the  incidents  which  brought  about 
our  sudden  departure  from  St.  Asaph,  a  look  of  anxiety  came 
across  her  face.   Then  she  asked  who  I  was. 

I  announced,  'I  am  the  grandson  of  Moses  Parry,  of  the 
Castle,  on  my  mother's  side,  and  of  John  Rowlands,  of  Llys, 
on  my  father's  side.' 

'Oh,  indeed,'  she  said  gravely,  nodding  her  head  up  and 
down.    'I  knew  them  both  well,  for  when  your  grandfather, 


ADRIFT  39 

Moses  Parry,  was  rich  and  lived  at  Plas  Bigot,  I  was  a  servant 
girl  in  his  service.  That  was  a  grand  time  for  him.  I  have  seen 
as  many  as  forty  people  sit  at  the  old  man's  table ;  the  family, 
servants,  and  farm-hands  all  together.  The  family  sat  at  one 
end.  Then  came  the  big  salt-cellar,  and  below  it  the  servants 
of  the  house  and  work-people  were  ranged  on  the  two  sides. 
A  fine  houseful  we  had  always,  too,  and  a  finer  family  could 
not  be  seen  in  the  Vale  of  Clwyd.  Let  me  see ;  there  was 
John,  the  eldest  son,  Moses,  and  Thomas,  and  there  were 
the  daughters,  Mary,  Maria,  and  a  young  girl  called  Eliza- 
beth. Which  of  these  was  your  mother?  Not  Mary,  I  war- 
rant.' 

'My  mother's  name  is  Elizabeth,'  I  replied. 

'So!  I  think  I  remember  something  about  her,  and  your 
father  was  the  eldest  son  of  John  Rowlands,  of  Llys !  Well,  I 
wonder!  It  seems  strange  now  how  we  lose  count  of  people 
whom  at  one  time  in  our  young  days  we  knew  well.  And  old 
John  Rowlands  is  your  grandfather !    Dear  heart  alive ! 

'  I  remember  the  burial  of  the  old  man,  Moses  Parry,  very 
well.  He  died  suddenly  in  a  field.  I  was  at  the  funeral,  and 
saw  him  buried  at  Whitchurch.  It  was  my  duty,  you  know, 
and  a  fine  funeral  it  was,  too.  Poor  old  man !  It  was  a  great 
come-down  in  the  world  from  the  great  house  at  Plas  Bigot 
to  that  little  cottage  at  the  Castle.  Did  you  think  of  going  to 
see  old  John  Rowlands?' 

'Yes,  I  thought  of  him,  and  of  Uncle  Moses  and  Thomas, 
and  of  my  cousin  Moses  Owen,  who  keeps  a  school  at  Bryn- 
ford,  near  Holywell.' 

'Well,  I  don't  wish  to  discourage  you ;  but  those  who  know 
John  Rowlands  would  tell  you  there  was  little  hope  of  help 
from  him.  However,  the  Llys  is  not  above  a  good  hour's 
walk,  and  you  could  see  him  first.  It  might  turn  out  better 
than  we  expect.' 

'Why,  is  he  so  poor,  then?' 

'  Poor !  Oh  no,  John  Rowlands  is  rich  enough.  He  has  two 
big  farms,  and  is  a  very  prosperous  man,  but  he  is  severe, 
cross,  and  bitter.  His  eldest  son,  John,  who,  I  suppose,  was 
your  father,  died  many  years  ago,  thirteen  or  fourteen  years,  I 
should  think.  There  are  two  daughters  living  with  him,  and 
they  might  be  kind  to  you.  No,  it  will  be  no  harm  to  try  the 


4o  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

old  man.  He  will  not  eat  you,  anyway,  and  something  must 
be  done  for  you.' 

From  this  good  woman  I  received  more  information  relat- 
ing to  my  family  than  I  had  ever  heard  previously.  It  has 
remained  fresher  in  my  memory  than  events  of  last  week.  At 
a  later  period  I  questioned  Aunt  Maria,  of  Liverpool,  upon 
these  matters,  and  she  confirmed  their  accuracy. 

The  next  morning,  after  a  refreshing  rest,  I  set  out  for 
the  Llys,  Llanrhaidr.  I  have  but  a  faint  recollection  of  its  ap- 
pearance, though  I  remember  a  big  farm-yard,  and  fat  stock- 
horses,  pigs,  cackling  geese,  and  fowls.  My  mind  was  too 
much  preoccupied  with  the  image  of  a  severe  and  sour  old 
man,  said  to  be  my  father's  father,  to  take  note  of  buildings 
and  scenery. 

Nothing  is  clear  to  me  but  the  interview,  and  the  appear- 
ance of  two  figures,  my  grandfather  and  myself.  It  is  quite 
unforgettable. 

I  see  myself  standing  in  the  kitchen  of  the  Llys,  cap  in 
hand,  facing  a  stern-looking,  pink-complexioned,  rather  stout, 
old  gentleman,  in  a  brownish  suit,  knee-breeches,  and  bluish- 
grey  stockings.  He  is  sitting  at  ease  on  a  wooden  settee,  the 
back  of  which  rises  several  inches  higher  than  his  head,  and 
he  is  smoking  a  long  clay  pipe. 

I  remember  that  he  asked  who  I  was,  and  what  I  wanted, 
in  a  lazy,  indifferent  way,  and  that  he  never  ceased  smoking 
while  he  heard  me,  and  that,  when  I  concluded,  he  took  his 
pipe  from  his  mouth,  reversed  it,  and  with  the  mouth-piece 
pointing  to  the  door,  he  said,  'Very  well.  You  can  go  back 
the  same  way  you  came.  I  can  do  nothing  for  you,  and  have 
nothing  to  give  you.' 

The  words  were  few ;  the  action  was  simple.  I  have  forgotten 
a  million  of  things,  probably,  but  there  are  some  few  pictures 
and  some  few  phrases  that  one  can  never  forget.  The  insolent, 
cold-blooded  manner  impressed  them  on  my  memory,  and  if 
I  have  recalled  the  scene  once,  it  has  been  recalled  a  thousand 
times. 

I  was  back  with  Mose  before  noon,  and  his  mother  said, 
'Oh,  well,  I  see  how  it  is.  You  have  failed.  The  hard-hearted 
old  man  would  not  receive  you.' 

In  the  afternoon,  I  paid  a  visit  to  Uncle  Moses,  who  was 


ADRIFT  41 

now  a  prosperous  butcher.  Flaxen-haired  Kitty,  whose  ap- 
pearance in  the  dim  time  when  I  was  an  infant  had  caused  my 
expulsion  from  the  house  of  my  grandfather,  received  me  with 
reserve.  They  gave  me  a  meal;  but  married  people,  with  a 
houseful  of  children,  do  not  care  to  be  troubled  with  the  visits 
of  poor  relations,  and  the  meaning  conveyed  by  their  manner 
was  not  difficult  to  interpret. 

I  next  visited  the  'Golden  Lion,'  kept  by  Uncle  Thomas; 
but  here  also,  the  house  was  full ;  and  early  on  the  following 
morning  I  was  on  my  way  to  Brynford-,  to  interview  Moses 
Owen,  the  school-master. 

Brynford  is  a  hamlet  situate  in  the  midst  of  a  moory  waste, 
about  half  an  hour  from  Holywell,  and  about  five  minutes' 
walk  from  Denbigh.  The  district  is  mostly  given  up  to  lead- 
mining.  I  stopped  in  front  of  a  new  National  Schoolhouse, 
and  the  master's  residence.  My  cousin  was  my  last  chance. 
If  he  refused  his  aid,  my  fate  must  necessarily  be  that  of  a 
young  vagabond,  for  Wales  is  a  poor  country  for  the  homeless 
and  friendless. 

I  was  admitted  by  a  buxom  woman  of  decided  temper, 
whose  first  view  of  me  was  with  an  ill-concealed  frown.  But 
as  I  requested  to  see  Mr.  Owen,  the  school-master,  she  in- 
vited me  in,  gazing  curiously  at  the  strange  garb  of  what 
she  took  to  be  a  new  pupil. 

On  being  shown  to  the  parlour,  a  tall,  severe,  ascetic  young 
man  of  twenty-two  or  twenty-three  years  demanded  my 
business.  As  he  listened  to  me,  an  amused  smile  came  to  his 
face,  and,  when  I  had  concluded,  he  reassumed  his  pedagogic 
severity,  and  cross-examined  me  in  my  studies.  Though  he 
gave  me  several  hard  questions  which  I  was  unable  to  answer, 
he  appeared  pleased,  and  finally  agreed  to  employ  me  as 
pupil-teacher  —  payment  to  be  in  clothing,  board,  and  lodg- 
ing. 

1  But  I  cannot  take  you  as  you  are.  You  will  have  to  go 
to  my  mother's  at  Tremeirchion,  who  will  see  that  you  are 
properly  equipped  for  our  school  with  decent  clothing,  and 
in  about  a  month  you  can  return  to  me  and  prove  what  you 
are  worth.' 

Thus  I  entered  on  my  first  stage  in  the  world. 

Within  three  hours,  on  the  following  day,  I  entered  the 


42  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

straggling  and  ancient  village  of  Tremeirchion.  It  lies  scat- 
tered along  a  hillside,  about  three  miles  from  St.  Asaph,  and 
four  from  Denbigh.  In  a  remote  time  its  humble  founders 
had  been  constrained  to  build  their  cabins  on  this  rocky  waste 
at  the  outskirts  of  rich  estates  and  fat  farms,  but  ultimately 
their  cabins  had  been  replaced  by  slate-roofed  cottages,  and 
an  ale-house  or  two,  and  as  many  shops  for  the  sale  of  peasant 
necessaries  were  added.  About  the  Xllth  Century  a  small 
church  was  built,  and  a  'God's  Acre'  attached  to  it,  which 
was  planted  with  yew  for  the  protection  of  the  building  from 
the  gales,1  and  the  whole  was  surrounded  by  a  wall.  Later 
on,  when  the  appearance  of  Wesley  had  disturbed  the  liti- 
gious and  discontented  Welsh  peasantry,  a  couple  of  chapels 
rose  up. 

Beyond  the  village,  and  after  descending  the  hillside  about 
a  mile,  past  fir  groves,  and  the  leafy  woods  of  Brynbella  Hall, 
I  came  to  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  at  a  few  yards  from  the 
road-side  stood  the  inn,  grocery-shop,  and  farm-house  known 
as  Ffynnon  Beuno,  —  St.  Beuno's  Spring,  or  Well. 

At  the  back  of  the  house  ran  a  narrow  valley  which  term- 
inated in  the  Craig  Fawr  (Great  Rock) .  Near  the  front  was  a 
lodge  and  gate,  leading  to  Brynbella  Hall,  well  hidden  by  a 
tall,  rook-haunted  wood.  The  great  house  was  once  occupied 
by  Mrs.  Thrale,  Dr.  Johnson's  friend. 

Tremeirchion,  literally  translated,  means  the  Maiden's 
Town,  and  was  so  named  from  a  convent  which  stood  in  its 
vicinity,  and  was  supposed  to  be  the  refuge  chosen  by  St. 
Winifred,  when  she  retired  with  a  company  of  virgins  after 
her  revivification  by  good  St.  Beuno  at  Holywell.  Compared 
with  the  famous  spring  of  St.  Winifred's  at  Holywell,  that  of 
St.  Beuno  is  a  modest  affair,  and  boasts  of  no  virtues  beyond 
purity  and  sweetness.  The  water  is  collected  in  a  stone  tank 
adjoining  the  house  of  Ffynnon  Beuno,  and  is  allowed  to  es- 
cape, for  the  benefit  of  the  villagers,  through  the  open  mouth 
of  a  rude  representation  of  a  human  head,  which  is  affixed  in 
the  front  wall. 

The  externals  of  Ffynnon  Beuno  favourably  impressed  me. 
The  sign  over  the  door  informed  the  public  that  Mary  Owen 

1  In  the  preamble  to  the  last  Statute  of  Edward  I,  it  is  narrated  that  yew-trees  were 
used  for  that  purpose. 


ADRIFT  43 

kept  open  house  for  the  entertainment  of  man  and  beast,  and 
sold  groceries,  tobacco,  ale,  and  spirituous  liquors,  and,  it 
might  have  added,  milk,  and  butter,  poultry,  and  sheep.  As 
I  walked  towards  the  door  I  prayed  inwardly  that  my  aunt 
would  be  as  gracious  to  me  as  I  believed  the  owner  of  the  cosy 
establishment  ought  to  be. 

She  stood  in  the  centre  of  her  kitchen  floor,  as  I  handed  her 
son's  letter  to  her.  The  contents  surprised  and  annoyed  her. 
Though  there  was  no  scorn  in  her  reception  of  me,  I  yet  felt 
instinctively  that  she  would  rather  not  have  received  the 
news.  The  announcement  was  too  sudden  and  precipitate  to 
please  a  mother  who,  until  now,  had  been  a  law  to  her  favourite 
son.  She  took  her  own  time  to  express  herself.  She  asked  me 
how  I  had  found  her  house,  whether  I  was  hungry  and  tired, 
quietly  observing  me  the  while.  She  set  before  me  an  abund- 
ance of  choice  food.  Her  pattens  signalled  her  movements 
in  the  pantry,  dairy,  shop,  and  beer-cellar;  but  I  knew  she 
was  thinking  of  me,  and  the  letter  from  her  son.  Each  time 
she  came  in  to  add  some  dish  to  the  fare  she  was  spreading  for 
me,  I  felt  her  searching  eyes  on  me.  This  was  an  ominous 
beginning,  and  made  me  feel  subdued  as  I  sat  in  the  shadow 
of  the  ingle-nook. 

Some  neighbours  came  in  to  quench  their  thirst  with  my 
aunt's  brewing,  and  from  my  place  I  could  not  fail  to  hear 
snatches  of  the  conversation,  most  of  which  related  to  me. 
My  aunt  was  relieving  herself  of  her  grievance,  by  which  I 
discovered  that  her  sense  of  prudence  had  been  offended  by 
my  cousin  Moses'  rash  act. 

'At  his  age,'  she  said,  'to  take  upon  himself  the  keep  and 
education  of  a  growing  boy!  He  will  be  marrying  himself 
shortly,  and  will  have  children  enough  of  his  own  to  bring  up. 
Why  should  he  bother  himself  about  other  people's  children  ? 
I  say,  "do  what  you  can  for  your  own,  and  let  other  people 
do  for  their  families  the  same."  I  don't  like  this  whim  of 
Moses'  at  all.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  disrespect  to  me,  his 
mother,  jwho  has  striven  hard  to  establish  him  in  life ;  and, 
in  the  second  place,  it  is  extravagant,  and  every  penny 
that  that  boy  will  cost  him  must  be  a  loss  to  the  family  that 
he  will  have  to  look  after  in  the  course  of  a  few  years,'  etc., 
etc. 


44  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

Poor  Aunt  Mary !   She  made  me  feel  mean  and  depressed 
at  the  time,  but  I  understand  it  all  now.  She  had  inherited  the 
instincts  of  economy,  and  the  calamities  which  had  overtaken 
her  father,  and  reduced  his  family  from  affluence  to  poverty, 
had  taught  her  wisdom.    From  these  circumstances  she  had 
long  ago  learned  that  only  thrift,  calculation,  and  contrivance, 
can  prevent  the  most  respectable  family  from  declining  to 
that  poverty  which  leads  to  the  workhouse.    She  knew  that 
money  meant  much  to  poor  folk,  and  that  the  only  way  to 
make  money  in  her  condition  of  life  was  to  make  the  most  of 
her  resources,  keep  whatever  she  could  scrape  from  the  pro- 
ceeds of  industry ;  and,  acting  on  those  principles,  she  was  an 
enemy  to  all  imprudence  and  improvidence,  waste  and  ex- 
travagance. As  she  could  not  invoke  the  law  to  hinder  young 
couples  from  the  folly  of  early  marriage,  she  could  disown 
them,  even  though  they  were  her  nearest  relatives,  and  suffer 
them,  unassisted,  to  bear  the  punishment  due  to  the  unwise. 
For  mothers  in  her  position,  she  knew  of  no  other  course, 
and  necessity  left  no  choice.    The  scraps  of  complaint  which 
I  heard  enabled   me  to  interpret  her  thoughts  and  actions 
towards  me  henceforth.   When  I  saw  the  bony,  narrow  face, 
dark  with  vexations,  and  the  way  she  jerked  a  tankard  or  a 
plate  from  the  table,  or  flapped  vigorously  her  duster,  I  knew 
that  I  was  at  the  bottom  of  her  trouble. 

Her  husband  had  died  three  years  before,  leaving  her  with 
the  care  of  four  sons.  As  her  sons  approached  manhood,  her 
responsibility  increased.  So  far  she  had  done  admirably. 
Edward,  the  eldest,  was  a  railway  official  at  Morley,  where  in 
time  his  abilities  must  necessarily  secure  him  promotion. 
Her  second  son,  Moses,  had  graduated  with  honours  at  Car- 
narvon College,  and  was  now  the  teacher  of  a  National  School 
at  Brynford.  Such  a  distinguished  scholar,  and  one  consum- 
ingly  zealous  in  all  that  belonged  to  his  profession,  could  not 
fail  to  have  a  brilliant  future.  John,  the  third  son,  was  a  lad 
of  eighteen,  on  the  eve  of  entering  the  railway  service,  as  a 
clerk.  David,  the  youngest,  a  lad  of  thirteen,  was  destined 
by  his  mother  to  assist  her  with  the  farm. 

Before  I  left  Ffynnon  Beuno  for  school,  I  had  abundant 
opportunities  to  inform  myself  of  the  low  estimate  formed  of 
me  by  the  neighbours.    My  aunt  was  so  honest  and  candid 


ADRIFT  45 

that  she  admitted  them  fully  into  her  confidence  respecting 
me,  and  these  sympathetic  gossips,  while  they  drank  the 
home-brewed  ale,  expressed  freely  to  one  another  their  opin- 
ions of  me,  regardless  whose  ears  might  hear. 

It  was  through  these  —  especially  Hugh,  the  blacksmith, 
and  John,  the  butcher  —  that  I  was  informed  that  I  was 
the  son  of  Aunt  Mary's  youngest  sister,  who  had  left  her 
home  early,  for  service  in  London,  and  had  thereby  griev- 
ously offended  her  family.  In  straying  to  London,  in  spite  of 
family  advice,  my  mother  had  committed  a  capital  offence. 
She  had,  moreover,  become  the  mother  of  three  children, 
and  had  thereby  shown  herself  to  be  a  graceless  and  thriftless 
creature. 

'Now,'  said  they,  turning  to  me,  'you  will  know  what  to 
expect  if  you  offend  your  aunt.  With  us  the  rule  is  "every 
family  for  itself,  and  God  for  us  all."  Mrs.  Owen  is  a  very 
good  woman,  but  she  will  stand  no  nonsense.  You  don't 
belong  to  her,  and  you  will  be  turned  out  of  the  house  the 
minute  you  forget  yourself.   So  look  out,  my  boy.' 

A  young  boy  cannot  be  expected  to  penetrate  into  the  secret 
motives  of  his  elders,  but,  though  his  understanding  may  be 
dull,  the  constant  iteration  of  hints  will  not  fail  in  the  end  to 
sharpen  his  intelligence.  Thus  it  was  that  I  came  to  perceive 
that  my  condition  had  not  been  bettered  much  by  my  abrupt 
exit  from  St.  Asaph.  If  in  one  I  had  suffered  physical  slavery, 
I  was  now  about  to  suffer  moral  slavery.  I  say  it  in  no  resent- 
ful sense,  but  as  a  fact,  I  saw  that  I  was  to  be  subject  to  an 
anxious  woman's  temper,  whose  petulance  would  not  be  con- 
trolled by  any  tenderness  for  me.  She  was  the  undisputed 
mistress  of  her  household,  and  those  who  were  of  it  could  only 
remain  with  her  by  uncomplaining  submissiveness.  This 
feeling  of  dependence  on  other  people's  favour,  and  the  sense 
that  my  condition  was  never  to  be  other  than  the  singer  of 
their  virtues,  greatly  troubled  me  at  times. 

There  are  some,  by  nature  proud,  who  patient  in  all  else,  demand 

but  this: 
To  love  and  be  beloved,  with  gentleness ;  and  being  scorned, 
What  wonder  if  they  die,  some  living  death !  —  Shelley. 

To  her  own  children,  Aunt  Mary  was  the  best  of  mothers. 
Had  I  received  but  a  tithe  of  her  affection,  I  fear  that,  like 


46  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

an  ass  partial  to  his  crib,  I  should  have  become  too  home- 
loving  ever  to  leave.  As  Jacob  served  Laban,  I  would  have 
served  aunt  for  years,  for  a  mere  smile,  but  she  had  not  in- 
terest enough  in  me  to  study  my  disposition,  or  to  suspect 
that  the  silent  boy  with  a  somewhat  dogged  look  could  be  so 
touched  by  emotion.  What  I  might  have  become  with  gra- 
cious treatment  her  youngest  son  David  became.  He  clung 
to  his  mother's  hearth,  and  eventually  married  the  daughter 
of  Jones,  of  Hurblas,  by  whom  he  had  a  large  family.  All  his 
life  he  remained  profoundly  ignorant  that  beyond  his  natal 
nook  the  universe  pulsed  deep  and  strong,  but,  as  the  saying 
is,  'Home-keeping  youth  hath  ever  homely  wits,'  and  gain 
and  honour  are  not  for  those  who  cling  to  their  fireside. 

Throughout  the  working  week  Aunt  Mary's  face  betrayed 
the  fretfulness  occasioned  by  her  many  cares.  She  was  a 
veritable  specimen  of  the  Martha  type,  and,  according  to  her 
nature,  all  her  thoughts  were  bent  upon  industry  and  its 
proceeds.  She  took  gloomy  views  of  her  financial  affairs,  and 
was  prone  to  be  in  ill-humour,  which  was  vented  in  saying 
disagreeable  things  to  her  servants.  The  damp  hollow  in 
which  her  house  stood,  between  a  brook  and  a  well,  hills  and 
deep  woods,  probably  was  accountable  for  much  of  this.  Her 
face  was  thin  and  sharp,  and  showed  traces  of  bad  health,  as 
well  as  of  anxiety.  The  querulous  voice  and  frequent  sighing 
proved  that  she  suffered  in  body  and  thought.  But  on  Sunday 
she  was  a  model  of  propriety  and  decorum,  and  a  beautiful 
motherliness  often  shone  in  her  eyes,  and  not  a  trace  of  anxiety 
could  be  seen  in  her  face.  The  next  day,  however,  she  would 
be  transformed.  The  mind  which  governed  the  estate  re- 
covered all  its  alertness.  It  seemed  as  if  the  Sabbath  cap  and 
silk  dress  had  some  sedative  influence  on  her,  for  when  they 
were  put  away  in  lavender,  and  the  Monday  gown  had  been 
put  on,  she  resumed  her  asperity.  Like  a  stern  general  about 
to  commence  battle,  she  issued  her  orders  to  David  about 
matters  connected  with  the  farm.  No  detail  of  byre  or  barn, 
seed  or  stock,  field  or  fold,  was  omitted.  David  repeated  them 
to  me,  and  I  conveyed  them  to  Dobbin,  the  pony,  Brindle,  the 
cow,  and  her  patient  sisters,  and  to  Pryn,  the  terrier. 

From  Monday's  early  breakfast  to  the  Saturday  tea,  every 
creature  at  Ffynnon  Beuno  understood  the  peremptory  law 


ADRIFT  47 

that  each  was  to  work.  Our  food  was  unstinted,  and  of  su- 
perior quality.  Never  since  have  I  tasted  such  divine  bread, 
or  such  savoury  meat,  and  the  Sunday  dinner  was  unsurpass- 
able. If  my  aunt  expected  us  to  labour  for  her  with  all  our 
might,  no  one  could  complain  of  being  starved,  or  being  ill- 
fed.  What  labour  could  a  small,  ignorant  boy  give  for  such 
bounties?  I  trimmed  hedges,  attended  the  sheep,  cleared  the 
byre,  fed  the  stock,  swept  the  farm-yard,  cut  and  stacked 
fuel,  drove  Dobbin  to  Rhyl  station  for  coal,  or  to  Denbigh 
for  beer,  or  to  Mostyn  for  groceries  —  the  odd  jobs  that  may 
be  done  on  a  farm  are  innumerable. 

Jane,  the  maid,  was  not  averse  to  profiting  by  my  help  in 
churning,  or  milking,  or  preparing  the  oven  for  the  week's 
baking.  David,  though  a  year  younger  than  I  was,  used  me 
as  his  fag.  From  him  I  learned  how  to  mow,  plough,  and  sow, 
to  drive,  ride,  shear  sheep,  and  mix  pig-swill.  I  came  to  love 
the  farm,  its  odour  of  kine  and  sweet  fodder,  the  humours  of 
the  cattle  and  sheep,  and,  though  often  oppressed  by  the  sense 
that  I  was  the  one  unloved  creature  at  Ffynnon  Beuno,  my 
days  were  not  altogether  unhappy. 

At  the  end  of  a  month,  my  school-outfit  was  ready,  and 
David  and  I  were  driven  by  my  aunt  in  her  green  shandry  to 
Brynford. 

School-life  commenced  the  next  day,  and  I  was  duly  ap- 
pointed monitor  of  the  second  class.  In  some  subjects,  a  few 
of  the  head  boys  of  the  National  School  were  more  advanced 
than  I  was,  but  in  history,  geography,  and  composition  I  was 
superior. 

The  school  closed  at  four  o'clock,  and  from  tea-time  till  our 
supper  of  porridge  and  milk  —  which  Moses  Owen  affected, 
from  his  belief  in  the  bone-making  properties  of  oatmeal  — 
was  ready,  I  was-  kept  indoors  to  learn  Euclid,  Algebra,  and 
Latin,  and  Grammar.  As  my  cousin  possessed  a  fair  library  of 
solid  literature,  I  soon  made  sensible  progress,  as,  with  his 
system  of  tuition,  and  my  eager  desire  to  acquit  myself  to  his 
satisfaction,  I  could  not  fail  to  do. 

Moses  Owen  was  infatuated  about  books,  and,  had  his 
health  permitted,  he  would  doubtless,  in  time,  have  been 
heard  of  in  the  world.  At  least,  such  was  the  opinion  of  those 
qualified  to  judge.   He  was,  however,  of  delicate  constitution, 


48  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

like  many  slender,  overgrown  youths,  and  his  health  required 
careful  watching.  His  residence  being  new,  and  exposed  to 
the  winds  blowing  over  the  moory  waste,  the  damp  was  per- 
ceptible in  the  weeping  walls  and  the  mouldy  wall-paper,  and 
he  was  often  subject  to  fits  of  lassitude  and  weakness;  but 
when  in  tone,  he  showed  all  the  energy  of  his  mother,  and  was 
indefatigable  in  teaching  me.  At  meal-times  he  was  always 
cross-examining  me  on  the  subject  of  my  tasks,  his  conversa- 
tion was  highly  scholastic,  and,  when  out  walking  with  him, 
I  was  treated  to  lectures.  Fed  by  such  methods  and  stimulated 
to  think,  I  became  infected  with  a  passion  for  books,  and  for 
eighteen  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four  I  was  wholly  engrossed 
with  them.  When,  a  couple  of  months  later,  I  stood  up  for 
examination  among  the  head  pupils,  my  progress  was  con- 
spicuous. 
S  In  time,  all  friendship  with  any  schoolfellow  at  Brynford 
was  impossible.  Most  of  the  boys  were  uncongenial  through 
their  incurable  loutishness.  Few  of  them  were  cleanly  or 
orderly,  and  their  ideas  of  what  was  right  differed  from  mine. 
They  were  vilely  irreligious,  and  to  my  astonishment  acted  as 
though  they  believed  manliness  to  consist  of  bare-faced  pro- 
fanity. Most  of  them  snuffled  abominably,  while  as  to  being 
tidy  and  neat,  no  savages  could  have  shown  greater  indiffer- 
ence. It  would  be  easier  to  transform  apes  into  men,  than  to 
make  such  natures  gentle.  They  all  appeared  to  have  become 
acquainted  with  my  antecedents,  and  their  general  behaviour 
towards  me  was  not  dissimilar  to  that  which  the  unconvicted 
show  towards  the  'ticket-of-leave.'  The  gentlest  retort  was 
followed  by  expressions  which  reminded  me  of  my  ignoble 
origin.  Often  they  did  not  wait  to  be  provoked,  but  indulged 
their  natural  malice  as  from  divine  privilege.  The  effect  of 
it  was  to  drive  me  within  my  own  shell,  and  to  impress  the 
lesson  on  me  that  I  was  forever  banned  by  having  been  an 
inmate  of  the  Workhouse.  I  was  neither  grieved  nor  resentful 
for  this,  because  I  had  no  dignity  or  vanity  which  could  be 
wounded;  and,  being  confined  to  my  own  thoughts,  I  ob- 
tained more  leisure  for  observation,  and  there  was  less  occa- 
sion for  speech. 

My  cousin,  also,  was  too  imperious  and  exacting  to  leave 
me  much  time  for  brooding,  and,  to  one  of  my  temperament, 


ADRIFT  49 

moping  is  disagreeable.  When,  however,  a  few  of  our  neigh- 
bours' children  condescended,  for  want  of  other  company,  to 
solicit  mine  for  hunting  nests  among  the  furze,  or  for  a  battle 
in  the  pools,  or  to  explore  an  abandoned  lead-shaft,  the  rest- 
lessness latent  in  all  boys  was  provoked  in  me,  and  I  remember 
several  enjoyable  Saturday  afternoons. 

Accomplished  as  my  cousin  Moses  appears  to  have  been  in 
literature,  he  was  too  young  to  know  much  about  human 
nature.  After  months  of  indefatigable  tuition,  he  relaxed  in 
his  efforts.  He  began  to  affect  a  disbelief  in  my  advancement, 
and  to  indulge  in  scorn  of  my  progress.  My  short-comings 
were  now  the  theme  of  his  discourses,  each  time  we  met.  My 
task  became  heavier  and  longer,  his  sarcasms  sharper,  and  his 
manner  more  provoking.  As  I  owed  a  home  to  him  I  was  de- 
barred from  retorting.  He  did  not  stoop  to  the  vulgar  punish- 
ment of  birching  or  caning,  but  inflicted  moral  torture  by  a 
peculiar  gift  of  language.  His  cutting  words  were  more  painful 
to  bear  than  any  amount  of  physical  castigation ;  their  effect 
bewildered  me  and  made  me  more  despairing,  and  I  think 
his  unkindness  increased  as  my  helpless  dependency  on  him 
was  made  more  manifest.  It  frequently  happens  that  as  the 
dependent  becomes  humbler  the  tyrant  becomes  harsher,  for 
the  spirit  taken  from  one  seems  to  be  converted  into  force  in 
the  other. 

Aunt  Mary,  during  all  this  period,  had  been  regularly  visit- 
ing her  son  once  a  week  with  fresh  home-supplies,  and,  by 
observing  the  change  in  my  cousin  after  one  of  these  visits, 
I  suspected  that  her  wishes  were  gradually  perverting  his 
original  intentions  towards  me.  Moses  was  absolute  over  his 
brother  David  and  myself,  but  when  Aunt  appeared  it  was 
obvious,  even  to  me,  that,  however  great  her  respect  for  his 
talents  was,  his  personality  sank  in  the  presence  of  her  master- 
ful spirit.  The  stronger  nature  of  his  mother  ruled  him  as 
completely  at  Brynford  as  when  he  was  a  tiny  boy  at  home. 
In  the  same  way  that  his  mother  showed  her  pride  in  her  son 
Moses,  her  son  was  proud  of  his  mother's  fine  qualities,  her 
wise  management  of  her  property  and  business,  and  the  es- 
teem she  won  from  all  who  came  near  her,  as  an  honourable, 
far-seeing,  and  right-judging  woman. 

A  pity  it  is  that  Moses  did  not  pursue  the  shorter  and 


5o  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

nobler  course  with  me.  It  was  but  due  to  his  mother  that  her 
wishes  should  prevail,  but  by  hesitating,  and  gradually  work- 
ing himself  into  a  dislike  of  me,  he  deprived  me  of  the  sweet 
memory  of  his  goodness.  Had  he  but  called  me  and  said,  '  I 
am  too  poor  to  play  the  benevolent  cousin  longer,  and  we 
must  part,'  and  sent  me  off  there  and  then,  I  should  have 
lived  to  honour  him  for  his  straightforwardness,  and  to  re- 
member with  gratitude  that,  as  long  as  he  was  able  to,  he  was 
graciously  beneficent.  But,  with  every  spoonful  of  food  I  ate, 
I  had  to  endure  a  worded  sting  that  left  a  rankling  sore.  I 
was  'a  dolt,  a  born  imbecile,  and  incorrigible  dunce.* 

When  the  tears  commenced  to  fall,  the  invectives  poured 
on  my  bent  head.  I  was  'a  disgrace  to  him,  a  blockhead,  an 
idiot.'  If,  wearying  of  this,  I  armed  myself  with  a  stony  im- 
passiveness,  he  would  vary  his  charges  and  say,  '  I  had  hoped 
to  make  a  man  of  you,  but  you  are  bound  to  remain  a  clod- 
hopper ;  your  stupidity  is  monstrous,  perfectly  monstrous !' 
He  would  push  back  his  chair  from  the  table,  and  with  fierce, 
brow-beating  glances  exclaim,  'Your  head  must  be  full  of 
mud  instead  of  brains.  Seven  hours  for  one  proposition !  I 
never  knew  the  equal  of  this  numskull.  I  can  endure  no 
more  of  this.  You  must  go  back  whence  you  came.  You  are 
good  for  nothing  but  to  cobble  paupers'  boots,'  etc.,  etc. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  decide  whether  I,  becoming  more 
and  more  confused  by  this  wholly-unlooked-for  violence,  and 
confounded  by  a  growing  belief  in  my  worthlessness,  or  Moses, 
tired  with  his  self-imposed  task  of  teaching  his  unfortunate 
cousin,  deserved  the  more  pity.  Had  I  been  in  his  place,  and 
believed  my  protege  to  be  the  matchless  dunce  he  described 
me  to  be,  I  could  never  have  had  the  heart  to  bait  him  to 
despair,  but  would  have  sought  an  occupation  for  him  more 
suited  for  his  capacities.  Moses  appears  to  have  required 
time  to  heat  himself  thoroughly  for  such  a  resolve,  and,  in  his 
desire  for  a  proper  pretence,  he  was  becoming  cruel. 

So  from  this  time  he  was  mute  about  my  merits.  I  was 
the  object  of  incessant  disparagement  and  reproaches,  and 
the  feeling  of  this  acted  as  a  weighty  clog  on  my  efforts.  The 
excellence  which  the  Owenses,  Pritchards,  and  Joneses  of  the 
school  might  aspire  to  was  to  be  denied  me.  My  spiritual, 
intellectual,  and  bodily  functions  were  to  be  stimulated  with 


ADRIFT  51 

birch,  boot,  and  bluster;  for  in  no  other  way  could  one  so 
dense  as  I  be  affected.  The  pain  at  last  became  intolerable, 
and  I  was  again  drawing  perilously  near  revolt.  But  Moses 
saw  nothing,  and  continued  to  shower  his  wordy  arrows, 
which  perpetually  stung  and  caused  inward  bleeding. 

I  used  to  think  that  Moses  was  a  grand  scholar,  but  I  got  to 
believe  that  he  had  never  been  a  boy.  That  towering  intellect 
of  his  was  not  due  to  education,  it  came  to  him  with  his 
mother's  milk.  Yet  I  was  unable  to  understand,  when  I  re- 
flected on  the  severity  of  his  manner,  how  the  Lord  Bishop 
of  St.  Asaph  —  who  was  a  Prince  of  the  Church,  and  was 
three  times  older  than  Moses  —  could  unbend  so  far  as  to 
challenge  us  Workhouse  boys  to  a  race  over  his  lawn,  and 
would  laugh  and  be  as  frisky  as  any  of  us.  The  stones  of  the 
highway  would  sooner  rise  and  smile  than  Moses  Owen  would 
relax  the  kill-joy  mask  he  wore  at  this  period. 

At  last,  after  a  course  of  nine  months'  tuition,  I  received 
permission  to  visit  Ffynnon  Beuno,  and  I  was  never  recalled 
to  Brynford.  Though  my  aunt  never  forgot  that  she  ought 
to  be  rid  of  me  as  soon  as  possible,  there  was  no  hardship  in 
doing  chores  for  her  at  the  farm.  When  she  was  gracious,  as 
she  often  was,  she  amply  compensated  me  for  any  inward 
sufferings  inflicted  during  her  severe  week-day  mood.  She 
was  an  exacting  mistress,  and  an  unsympathetic  relative, 
though,  in  every  other  sense,  she  was  a  most  estimable  woman. 
But  what  I  lacked  most  to  make  my  youth  complete  in  its 
joy  was  affection. 

Tremeirchion  is  only  a  hamlet  overlooking  the  Vale  of 
Clwyd,  inhabited  by  tradesmen,  farm-employees,  and  navvies, 
and  their  families ;  but  my  impression  is  that  though  the  Vale 
contains  a  large  number  of  landed  proprietors,  few  of  them 
are  prouder  than  the  occupants  of  the  hamlet.  Sarah  Ellis, 
who  rented  a  cottage  from  my  aunt  at  the  grand  rate  of  30 
shillings  a  year,  carried  herself  more  majestically  than  any 
royal  person  I  have  since  seen,  and  seemed  to  be  always  im- 
pressing her  dignity  on  one.  There  was  Mr.  Jones,  of  Hurblas, 
Jones,  of  Tynewydd,  Jones,  of  Craig  Fawr,  Hugh,  the  black- 
smith, Sam  Ellis,  the  navvy  —  they  are  revived  in  my  mind 
now,  and  I  fail  to  see  what  cause  they  had  of  being  so  inordin- 
ately haughty  as  I  remember  them  to  have  been.  Then  there 


52  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

was  my  aunt  —  she  was  proud,  David  was  proud  —  they 
were  all  exceedingly  proud  in  Tremeirchion.  I  am  reminded 
how  they  despised  all  foreigners,  hated  the  Sassenach,  and 
disparaged  their  neighbours,  and  how  each  thought  his,  or 
her,  state,  manners,  or  family  to  be  superior  to  any  other. 
Yet,  if  their  condition  was  not  humble,  where  shall  we  look 
for  humbleness?  But  I  am  doubtless  wrong  in  calling  this  opin- 
ionative  habit  'pride';  perhaps  'prejudice'  would  describe 
it,  the  prejudice  born  of  ignorance,  and  fostered  in  a  small, 
untravelled  community,  which  knew  nothing  of  the  broad, 
sunny  lands  beyond  the  fog-damp  Vale.  The  North-Welsh  are 
a  compound  of  opposites,  —  exclusive  as  Spaniards,  vindictive 
as  Corsicans,  conservative  as  Osmanlis ;  sensible  in  business, 
but  not  enterprising;  quarrelsome,  but  law-abiding;  devout, 
but  litigious ;  industrious  and  thrifty,  but  not  rich ;  loyal,  but 
discontented. 

Our  tavern-kitchen  on  a  Saturday  night  was  a  good  school 
for  the  study  of  the  North  Welsh  yeoman  and  peasant,  for 
then  it  used  to  be  full  of  big-boned  men,  dressed  in  velveteen 
coats  and  knee-breeches,  who  drank  like  troopers,  and  stormed 
like  madmen.  The  farmer,  butcher,  tailor,  shoemaker,  navvy, 
game-keeper,  and  a  'gent'  or  two  held  high  carnival  during 
the  last  hours  of  the  working  week;  and  David  and  rosy- 
cheeked  Jane  and  myself  had  to  trot  briskly  in  the  service  of 
supplying  these  mighty  topers  with  foaming  ale. 

The  first  quart  made  them  sociable,  the  second  made  them 
noisily  merry.  Tom  Davies,  the  long-limbed  tailor,  would 
then  be  called  for  a  song,  and,  after  a  deal  of  persuasion,  he 
would  condescend,  in  spite  of  his  hoarseness,  to  give  us  '  Rule 
Britannia,'  or  the  '  March  of  the  Men  of  Harlech,'  the  chorus  of 
which  would  be  of  such  stupendous  volume  that  the  bacon 
flitches  above  swung  to  the  measure.  If,  while  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  ale  and  the  patriotic  song,  the  French  had  hap- 
pened to  invade  the  Vale  of  Clwyd,  I  do  believe  that  if  the 
topers  could  have  got  within  arm's  length  of  them  the  French 
would  have  had  a  bad  time  of  it. 

Then  another  singer  would  treat  us  to  'The  Maid  of  Llan- 
gollen,' which  soothed  the  ardent  tempers  heated  by  the  late 
valorous  thoughts;  or  John  Jones,  the  butcher,  envious  of 
the  applause  won  by  Tom  Davies,  would  rise  and  ring  out  the 


/•/////       v      //.    ^S  ft////*'  t/  . 


-/<  ■    /J. 


ADRIFT  53 

strain,  'To  the  West,  where  the  mighty  Mizzourah,'  which 
gave  us  the  vision  of  a  wide  and  free  land  awaiting  the  emi- 
grant, and  an  enormous  river  flowing  between  silent  shores  to 
the  sea.  More  beer  would  be  called  for  by  the  exulting  men, 
while  eyes  spoke  to  eyes  of  enchanted  feelings,  and  of  happy 
hearts.  Courage  was  high  at  this  juncture,  waistcoats  would 
be  unbuttoned  for  easy  breathing,  content  flushed  each  honest 
face,  the  foaming  ale  and  kitchen  fire  were  so  inspiring ! 

After  ten,  the  spirits  of  our  customers  would  be  still  more 
exalted,  for  they  were  deep  in  the  third  quart !  All  the  combat- 
iveness  of  the  Welsh  nature  then  was  at  white  heat.  This 
would  be  the  time  for  Dick  Griffiths  —  wooden-legged  Dick  — 
to  indulge  in  sarcasm  at  the  expense  of  the  fiery  butcher ;  and 
for  Sam  Ellis,  the  black-browed  navvy,  to  rise  and  challenge 
them  both  to  a  bout  of  fisticuffs ;  and  then  would  follow  sad 
scenes  of  violence,  for  John,  who  was  gamey  as  a  bantam-cock, 
would  square  off  at  the  word. 

But,  at  this  critical  moment,  Aunt  Mary  would  leave  her 
shop-counter,  and  walk  solemnly  into  the  kitchen,  and,  with  a 
few  commands,  calm  the  fiery  souls.  Dick  would  be  bustled  out 
ignominiously,  as  he  was  too  irascible  for  peace  after  half-past 
ten.  Sam  would  be  warned  of  dreadful  consequences  if  he 
lifted  his  voice  again ;  while  as  for  John  Jones,  the  butcher,  it 
was  pitiful  to  see  how  craven  he  became  at  sight  of  a  woman's 
uplifted  forefinger.  Thus  did  the  men  waste  their  spare  time 
in  gossip,  and  smoking,  and  drinking  —  which  involved  a 
waste  of  their  spare  cash,  or  the  surplus  left  in  their  pockets 
after  the  purchase  of  absolute  necessities.  The  gossip  injured 
men's  morals,  as  the  smoking  deadened  their  intellects,  and 
the  beer  disturbed  their  lives.  The  cottage  and  farm  fireside 
has  received  greater  praise  than  it  deserves,  for  if  we  think  of 
the  malice,  ill-nature,  and  filthy  or  idle  gossip  vacuous  minds 
find  pleasure  in,  it  will  be  seen  that  there  is  another  side  to  the 
picture,  and  that  not  a  flattering  one. 

This  chapter  might  be  expanded  to  a  book,  if  I  were  to 
dwell  on  too  many  details  of  this  period.  It  was  crowded  with 
small  felicities  notwithstanding  myriads  of  slights.  During 
the  prostrating  fevers  of  Africa,  memory  loved  to  amuse  itself 
with  its  incidents.  It  had  been  my  signal  misfortune  to  have 
been  considered  as  the  last  in  the  village,  and  every  churl  was 


54  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

but  too  willing  to  remind  me  of  it.  My  aunt  was  nothing  loth 
to  subdue  any  ebullience  of  spirit  with  the  mention  of  the 
fact  that  I  was  only  a  temporary  visitor,  and  my  cousin  David 
was  quick,  as  boys  generally  are,  to  point  out  how  ill  it 
became  me  to  forget  it,  while  Jane  used  it  as  an  effective 
weapon  to  crush  any  symptom  of  manliness.  But,  with 
a  boy's  gaiety  and  healthful  spirit,  I  flung  all  thoughts  of 
these  miseries  aside,  so  that  there  were  times  when  I  enjoyed 
hearty  romps  with  David,  hunted  for  rabbits,  and  burrowed 
in  the  caves,  or  made  dams  across  the  brook,  with  the  mem- 
ory of  which  I  have  whiled  many  a  lonely  hour  in  African 
solitudes. 

Aunt  Mary  had  so  often  impressed  it  on  me  that  I  was 
shortly  to  leave,  and  worry  in  the  outer  world  for  myself,  that 
my  imagination  while  with  the  sheep  on  Craig  Fawr,  or  at 
church,  was  engaged  in  drawing  fanciful  pictures  of  the  des- 
tiny awaiting  me.  My  favourite  spot  was  on  the  rocky  summit 
of  the  Craig.  There  the  soul  of  'Childe  Roland'  gradually 
expanded  into  maturity.  There  he  dreamed  dreams  of  the 
life  to  come.  There  I  enjoyed  a  breezy  freedom,  and  had  a 
wide  prospect  of  the  rich  Vale  of  Clwyd,  —  from  the  sea- 
shore at  RJiyl  to  the  castled  town  of  Denbigh,  —  and  between 
me  and  the  sky  nothing  intervened.  There  was  I  happiest, 
withdrawn  from  contact  with  the  cold-hearted,  selfish  world, 
with  only  the  sheep  and  my  own  thoughts  for  company. 
There  I  could  be  myself,  unrestrained.  My  loudest  shout 
could  not  be  heard  by  man,  my  wildest  thought  was  free. 
The  rolling  clouds  above  me  had  a  charm  indescribable,  they 
seemed  to  carry  my  spirit  with  them  to  see  the  huge,  round 
world,  in  some  far-off  corner  of  which,  invisible  to  everyone 
but  God,  I  was  to  work  out  my  particular  task. 

At  such  a  time,  Enoch's  glorious  and  sweet  life  would  be 
recalled  in  the  lovely  land  of  flowers  and  sunshine,  and  it 
would  not  be  long  before  I  would  feel  inspired  to  imitate  his 
holy  blamelessness,  and,  rising  to  my  feet,  I  would  gather 
stones,  and  raise  a  column  to  witness  my  vows,  like  Jacob  in 
the  patriarchal  days.  Those  hours  on  the  top  of  the  Craig 
were  not  wholly  without  their  influence.  They  left  on  the 
mind  remembrances  of  a  secret  compact  with  the  all-seeing 
God,  Who  heard,  through  rushing  clouds  and  space,  the  love- 


ADRIFT  55 

less  boy's  prayer  and  promise ;  and,  when  provoked,  they  often 
came  between  me  and  offence. 

Finally,  another  aunt  came  to  visit  us  from  Liverpool ;  and, 
therewith,  the  first  phase  of  my  future  was  shaped.  When  she 
had  gathered  the  intentions  of  her  sister  towards  me,  she 
ventured  upon  the  confident  statement  that  her  husband  — 
Uncle  Tom,  as  he  came  to  be  known  to  me  —  was  able  to 
launch  me  upon  a  career  which  would  lead  to  affluence  and 
honour.  He  had  such  great  influence  with  a  Mr.  Winter  — 
Manager  of  a  Liverpool  Insurance  Office  —  that  my  future 
was  assured.  After  several  debates  between  the  two  sisters, 
Aunt  Mary  was  persuaded  that  I  had  but  to  land  in  Liverpool 
to  be  permanently  established  in  a  highly-prosperous  business. 

After  Aunt  Maria's  departure,  a  letter  from  her  husband 
arrived  which  substantiated  all  she  had  said,  and  urged  the 
necessity  of  an  early  decision,  as  such  a  vacancy  could  not  be 
left  long  unfilled.  It  only  needed  this  to  hurry  Aunt  Mary  in 
procuring  for  me  the  proper  outfit,  which  she  was  resolved 
should  be  as  complete  as  if  it  were  for  one  of  her  own  children. 

When  the  day  of  departure  at  last  came,  my  feelings  were 
violently  wrenched ;  certainly  some  fibres  of  my  affection 
wTere  being  torn,  else  why  that  feeling  of  awful  desolation? 
It  may  appear  odd  that  I  wept  copiously  at  leaving  Ffynnon 
Beuno,  where  there  were  none  who  could  have  wept  for  me, 
had  they  tried  ever  so  hard.  Nevertheless,  when  one  image 
after  the  other  of  the  snug  farm-house  and  lovely  neighbour- 
hood, the  Craig  Fawr,  the  fields,  the  woods,  the  caves,  the 
brook,  crowded  into  my  mind,  I  was  sorely  tempted  to  pray 
for  a  little  delay.  It  is  probably  well  that  I  did  not,  and  it 
was  better  for  my  health  that  my  affections  were  with  inani- 
mate nature  and  not  with  persons,  for,  otherwise,  it  would 
have  been  a  calamity.  Wordsworth  finely  describes  the  feeling 
that  moved  me  in  the  lines,  — 

'These  hills, 
Which  were  his  living  being,  even  more 
Than  his  own  blood  .  .   .  had  laid 
Strong  hold  upon  his  affections,  were  to  him 
A  pleasurable  feeling  of  blind  love.' 

As  the  little  packet-steamer  bore  us  towards  Liverpool,  and 
the  shores  of  Wales  receded  from  view,  the  sight  of  the  melan- 


56  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

choly  sea  and  cold  sky  seemed  in  fit  sympathy  with  the  heavy 
burden  which  lay  on  my  heart.  They  stirred  up  such  op- 
pressive fancies  that  I  regarded  myself  as  the  most  miserable 
being  in  existence,  deprived  of  even  a  right  to  love  the  land 
that  I  was  born  in.  I  said  to  myself,  'I  have  done  no  harm  to 
any  living  soul,  yet  if  I  but  get  attached  to  a  field,  all  conspire 
to  tear  me  away  from  it,  and  send  me  wandering  like  a  vaga- 
bond over  the  unknown/ 

Who  can  describe  that  sadness  ?  Anguish  racked  me,  and  a 
keen  sense  of  woe  and  utter  beggary  so  whelmed  the  mind  that 
my  ears  became  dead  to  words,  my  eyes  blind  to  all  colours, 
save  that  which  sympathised  with  the  gloom  within.  No  gold 
or  silver  had  I,  nor  land,  nor  any  right  even  to  such  small 
share  as  might  be  measured  for  my  grave ;  but  my  memory 
was  rich  with  pleasant  thoughts,  stored  with  scenic  beauties. 
Oh !  place  me  on  the  summit  of  the  Craig  again,  and  let  me 
sit  in  peace,  and  my  happy  thoughts  will  fly  out,  one  by  one, 
and  bring  the  smile  to  my  face,  and  make  me  proof  against 
the  misery  of  orphanage  and  the  wintry  cold  of  the  world ; 
there  my  treasures,  which  to  me  were  all-sufficing,  wearied 
me  not  with  their  weight  or  keeping,  were  of  no  bulk  to  kindle 
covetousness,  or  strike  the  spark  of  envy,  and  were  close- 
hidden  within  the  soul.  Often  as  I  have  left  English  shores 
since,  the  terrible  dejection  of  spirit  of  that  day  has  ever 
recurred  to  my  mind. 

When  about  half-way  across  the  Dee  estuary,  I  was  aston- 
ished at  seeing  many  great  and  grand  ships  sailing,  under 
towers  of  bellying  canvas,  over  the  far-reaching  sea,  towards 
some  world  not  our  own.  Not  long  after  there  appeared  on  the 
horizon  clouds  of  smoke,  out  of  which,  presently,  wound  a  large 
city.  There  I  saw  distinctly  masses  of  houses,  immensely  tall 
chimneys,  towers,  lengths  of  walls,  and  groves  of  ship-masts. 

My  rustic  intelligence  was  diverted  by  the  attempt  to  com- 
prehend what  this  sight  could  mean.  W7as  this  Liverpool, 
this  monstrous  aggregation  of  buildings,  and  gloomy  home 
of  ships?  Before  I  could  answer  the  question  satisfactorily, 
Liverpool  was  all  around  me:  it  had  grown,  unperceived  by 
me.  into  a  land  covered  by  numberless  structures  of  surpassing 
vastness  and  height,  and  spread  on  either  side  of  our  course. 
We  sped  along  a  huge  sea-wall,  which  raised  its  grim  front  as 


ADRIFT  57 

high  as  a  castle,  and  before  us  was  a  mighty  river ;  on  either 
side  there  was  an  immeasurable  length  of  shore,  crowded 
with  houses  of  all  sorts ;  and  when  I  looked  astern,  the  two 
lines  with  their  wonders  of  buildings  ran  far  out  towards  the 
sea,  whence  we  had  so  swiftly  come. 

Before  my  distracted  mind  could  arrange  the  multitude 
of  impressions  which  were  thronging  on  me,  my  aunt,  who 
had  sat  through  all  unmoved  and  silent,  touched  me  on  the 
shoulder  and  bade  me  follow  her  ashore.  Mechanically,  I 
obeyed,  and  stepped  out  on  a  floating  stage  which  was  suffi- 
ciently spacious  to  accommodate  a  whole  town-full  of  people ; 
and,  walking  over  an  iron  bridge,  we  gained  the  top  of  the 
colossal  wall,  among  such  a  number  of  human  beings  that  I 
became  speechless  with  fear  and  amazement. 

Entering  a  carriage,  we  drove  along  past  high  walls  that 
imprisoned  the  shipping,  through  an  atmosphere  impregnated 
with  fumes  of  pitch  and  tar,  and  streets  whose  roar  of  traffic 
was  deafening.  My  ears  could  distinguish  clinks  of  iron, 
grinding  roll  of  wheels,  tramp  of  iron-shod  hoofs,  but  there 
was  a  hubbub  around  them  all  which  was  loud  and  strenuous, 
of  which  I  could  make  nothing,  save  that  it  was  awful  and 
absorbing.  Fresh  from  the  slumbering  existence  of  a  quiet 
country  home,  my  nerves  tingled  under  the  influence  of  the 
ceaseless  crash  and  clamour.  The  universal  restlessness  visible 
out  of  the  carriage  windows,  and  the  medley  of  noises,  were 
so  overwhelming  that  from  pure  distraction  and  an  impressive 
sense  of  littleness  in  the  midst  of  such  a  mighty  Babel,  every 
intelligent  faculty  was  suspended. 

The  tremendous  power  of  this  aggregate  force  so  fiercely 
astir,  made  me  feel  so  limp  and  helpless  that  again  I  was 
tempted  to  implore  my  aunt  to  return  with  me  to  the  peace 
of  Tremeirchion.  But  I  refused  the  cowardly  impulse,  and, 
before  my  total  collapse,  the  carriage  stopped  at  an  hotel. 
We  were  received  by  such  smiling  and  obliging  strangers  that 
my  confidence  was  restored.  The  comfort  visible  everywhere, 
and  the  composed  demeanour  of  my  aunt  and  her  friends, 
were  most  soothing. 

In  the  evening,  Aunt  Maria  appeared,  and  her  warm  greet- 
ings served  to  dissipate  all  traces  of  my  late  panic,  and  even 
infused  a  trifle  of  exaltation,  that  my  insignificant  self  was 


58  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

henceforth  to  be  considered  as  one  of  the  many-throated 
army  which  had  made  Liverpool  so  terrible  to  a  youthful 
rustic.  She  was  pressed  to  stay  for  a  nine-o'clock  supper,  but 
when  she  rose  to  depart  I  was  by  no  means  reluctant  to  brave 
the  terror  of  the  street.  Aunt  Mary  slipped  a  sovereign  into 
my  hand,  stood,  over  a  minute,  still  and  solemn,  then  bade  me 
be  a  good  boy  and  make  haste  to  get  rich.  I  was  taken  away, 
and  I  never  saw  her  again. 

The  streets  no  longer  resounded  with  the  startling  hurly- 
burly  of  the  day.  At  a  quick  trot  we  drove  through  miles  of 
lighted  ways,  and  by  endless  ranges  of  ill-lit  buildings.  Once 
I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  spacious  market,  aglow  with  gas-lights, 
where  the  view  of  innumerable  carcases  reminded  me  of  the 
wonderful  populousness  of  the  great  city;  but  beyond  it  lay 
the  peaceful  region  of  a  sleeping  people.  At  about  the  middle 
of  this  quieter  part  the  cab  halted,  and  we  descended  before 
the  door  of  No.  22,  Roscommon  Street. 

My  precious  box,  with  its  Liverpool  outfit,  was  carried  into 
the  house,  and  a  second  later  I  was  in  the  arms  of  cheery 
'Uncle  Tom.'  In  expectation  of  my  coming  there  was  quite 
a  large  party  assembled.  There  was  my  irrepressible  cousin, 
Mary  Parkinson,  with  her  husband,  tall  John  Parkinson,  the 
cabinet-maker,  a  brave,  strong,  and  kindly  fellow.  There  were 
also  my  cousins  Teddy  and  Kate,  and  Gerard,  Morris,  and 
others. 

Cousin  Mary  was  an  independent  young  woman,  and,  like 
all  women  conscious  of  good  looks,  sure  of  her  position  in  a 
small  circle ;  but,  important  as  she  might  be,  she  was  but  sec- 
ondary to  Uncle  Tom,  her  father.  He  was  the  central  figure 
in  the  gathering,  and  his  sentiments  were  a  law  to  his  house- 
hold. He  stood  in  the  forefront,  of  medium  size,  corpulent, 
rubicund,  and  so  genial,  it  was  impossible  to  withstand  him. 

1  My  word,  laddy !  thou  art  a  fine  boy !  Why,  I  had  no  idea 
they  could  raise  such  as  thou  in  Wales.  What  hast  been  living 
on  to  get  so  plump  and  round  —  cheeks  like  apples,  and  eyes 
like  stars?  Well,  of  all!  —  I  say,  Mary,  John,  my  dears,  why 
are  ye  standing  mute?  Give  the  laddy  here  a  Lancashire 
welcome!  Buss  him,  wench!  He  is  thy  first  cousin.  Teddy, 
my  lad,  come  up  and  let  me  make  thee  acquainted  with  thy 
cousin.    Kate,  step  forward,  put  up  thy  mouth,  dear;  there, 


ADRIFT  59 

that  is  right !  Now  welcome,  a  thousand  times,  to  Liverpool, 
my  boy !  This  is  a  grand  old  city,  and  thou  art  her  youngest 
citizen,'  etc.,  etc. 

He  was  so  breezy  and  bluff  of  speech,  and  so  confident  of 
great  things  for  me  in  Liverpool,  that  I  forgot  I  was  in  the  city 
of  noise  and  smoke,  as  well  as  my  first  dread  of  it.  He  was  the 
first  of  his  type  I  ever  met.  He  had  the  heartiness  and  rollick- 
ness  of  the  traditional  ' sea-dog,'  as  sound  in  fibre  as  he  was 
impervious  to  care.  No  presence  could  daunt  him  or  subdue 
his  unabashed  frankness.    He  was  like  that  fellow 

1  Who  having  been  praised  for  bluntness  doth  affect 
A  saucy  roughness. 

He  cannot  flatter,  he! 
An  honest  mind  and  plain,  —  he  must  speak  truth ; 
An  they  will  take  it,  so;  if  not,  he  's  plain.' 

Uncle  Tom  was  a  man  of  fair  education,  and  had  once 
occupied  a  responsible  post  in  the  railway  service.  It  was 
through  his  influence  that  Edward  Owen  had  found  a  position 
in  it,  and  I  presume  that  the  memory  of  that  had  influenced 
Aunt  Mary  in  committing  me  to  his  care.  Uncle  Tom  must  have 
been  found  wanting  in  some  respects,  for  he  had  descended 
in  the  scale  of  life,  while  his  protege,  Edward,  was  now  mount- 
ing rapidly.  He  now  was  a  poor  '  cottoner,'  at  a  pound  a  week, 
with  which  he  had  to  support  himself  and  large  family.  His 
fault  —  if  fault  it  may  be  called  —  may  be  guessed  by  the 
fact  that,  while  his  family  was  increasing,  he  had  rashly 
undertaken  to  burden  himself  with  the  care  of  a  boy  of  my 
age,  while  the  slightest  accident  or  indisposition  would  leave 
him  wholly  without  means  to  support  anybody.  His  heart 
was  altogether  too  easily  expansive  for  one  of  his  condition. 
Had  his  means  permitted,  he  would  have  kept  perpetual 
holiday  with  his  friends,  he  so  loved  good  cheer  and  genial 
fellowship.  He  was  over-contented  with  himself  and  others; 
and  too  willing  to  become  surety  for  anyone  who  appeared 
to  possess  good-humour  and  good-nature ;  and,  through  that 
disposition,  which  is  fatal  to  a  man  of  family,  he  continued 
to  fall  lower  and  lower,  until  his  precarious  wages  barely 
sufficed  for  the  week's  wants. 

During  the  first  few  days  I  did  little  more  than  tramp 
through  the  streets  of  Liverpool  from  Everton  to  the  Docks, 


60  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

with  Teddy  Morris,  aged  12,  as  a  guide,  who  showed  me  the 
wonders  of  the  city  with  the  air  of  an  important  shareholder 
glorying  in  his  happy  investments.  The  spirit  of  his  father  in 
regard  to  its  splendour  and  wealth  had  taken  possession  of 
him,  and  so  much  was  I  impressed  with  what  he  said  to  me, 
that,  had  a  later  comer  questioned  me  about  Liverpool,  I 
should  doubtless  have  expressed  the  conviction  that  its 
grandeur  was  due  in  a  great  measure  to  the  presence  of  Uncle 
Tom  and  his  son  Teddy. 

The  day  came  when  Uncle  Tom  took  me  to  interview 
Mr.  Winter,  through  whose  influence  I  was  to  lay  the  founda- 
tion of  that  promised  prosperity  that  was  to  be  mine.  I  had 
donned  my  new  Eton  suit  for  the  first  time,  and  my  hair  shone 
with  macassar.  Such  an  important  personage  as  Mr.  Winter 
could  only  live  among  the  plutocracy  of  Everton  Heights; 
and  thither  we  wended,  with  hope  and  gladness  in  our  eyes. 

Years  ago,  when  Uncle  Tom  was  in  affluent  circumstances, 
he  had  befriended  Mr.  Winter  in  some  way  that  had  made 
that  gentleman  pledge  himself  to  repay  his  kindness.  He  was 
about  to  test  the  sincerity  of  his  professions  by  soliciting  his 
influence  on  behalf  of  his  wife's  nephew. 

We  were  received  with  a  profuse  show  of  friendship,  and 
such  civilities  that  they  seemed  obsequious  to  me  when  I 
compared  the  sheen  of  Mr.  Winter's  black  clothes  with  the 
fluffy  jacket  on  Uncle  Tom's  shoulders.  The  gentleman  took 
out  his  spotless  kerchief  and  affected  to  dust  the  chair  before 
placing  it  before  his  visitor,  and  anxiously  inquired  about  the 
health  of  good  Mrs.  Morris  and  her  divine  children.  When 
he  came  finally  to  touch  upon  my  affairs,  I  was  rendered 
quite  emotional  with  pride  by  the  compliments  he  showered 
upon  me. 

Mrs.  Winter,  an  extremely  genteel  person  in  long  curls, 
presently  appeared  upon  the  scene,  and  after  cooing  with  her 
spouse  and  exchanging  affectionate  embraces,  was  introduced 
to  us.  But,  though  we  were  present,  husband  and  wife  had 
such  an  attraction  for  each  other  that  they  could  not  refrain 
from  resuming  their  endearments.  My  cheeks  burned  with 
shame  as  I  heard  them  call  one  another,  '  My  sweetie,  darling 
love,  blessed  dearie,'  and  the  like;  but  Uncle  Tom  was  hugely 
delighted,  and  took  it  all  as  a  matter  of  course.    In  W7ales, 


ADRIFT  61 

however,  married  people  did  not  conduct  themselves  so 
grossly  in  public. 

When  we  rose  to  go  away,  Mr.  Winter  resumed  his  earnest 
and  benevolent  manner  to  us,  and  begged  my  uncle  to  call  on 
him  next  morning  at  nine  sharp,  and  he  would  be  sure  to  hear 
of  something  favourable.  While  returning  home  down  the 
slope  from  Everton,  Uncle  Tom  was  most  emphatic  in  de- 
claring that  'dear  old  WTinter  was  a  born  gentleman,  a  dear, 
kind  heart,  and  excellent  old  soul,'  and  that  I  might  consider 
myself  as  a  'made  man.'  Exultations  at  my  prospects  in- 
clined me  to  echo  my  uncle's  sentiments,  and  to  express  my 
belief  that  Mrs.  Winter  was  like  a  saint,  with  her  dove-like 
eyes  and  pretty  ringlets,  though  in  some  recess  of  me  was 
something  of  a  disdain  for  those  mawkish  endearments  of 
which  I  had  been  an  unwilling  witness.  These  subjects  oc- 
cupied us  all  the  way  back  to  No.  22,  Roscommon  Street, 
upon  entering  which  we  revealed  all  that  had  happened  to 
Aunt  Maria,  and  made  her  participate  in  the  delights  of  hope. 

Twenty  times  during  the  month  did  Uncle  Thomas  and  I 
travel  up  to  Everton  Heights,  and  the  oftener  we  called  on 
Mr.  and  Airs.  Winter,  the  less  assured  we  became  of  the 
correctness  of  our  first  impressions.  These  visits  cost  Uncle 
Tom,  who  ought  to  have  been  at  work  checking  the  cotton 
bales,  seventy  shillings,  which  he  could  ill  afford  to  lose.  The 
pair  at  every  occasion  met  us  with  exquisite  politeness,  and 
their  cooing  by-plays  recurred  regularly,  he  affectionate 
beyond  words,  she  standing  with  drooping  head,  and  meek 
sense  of  unworthiness,  as  he  poured  over  her  the  oil  of  sweet- 
ness. 

The  visits  had  been  gradually  becoming  more  and  more 
tedious  to  us,  for  what  may  have  been  gratification  to  them 
was  nauseous  to  disappointed  people,  until  at  the  end  of  the 
twenty-first  visit  Uncle  Tom  burst  out  uncontrollably  with, 
'Now,  d — n  it  all!  Stop  that,  Winter.  You  are  nothing  but 
an  artful  humbug.  In  God's  name,  man,  what  pleasure  can 
you  find  in  this  eternal  lying?  Confound  you,  I  say,  for  a 
d — d  old  rascal  and  hypocrite!  I  can't  stand  any  more  of 
this  devilish  snivelling.  I  shall  be  smothered  if  I  stay  here 
longer.  Come,  boy,  let's  get  out  of  this,  we  will  have  no  more 
of  this  canting  fraud.' 


62  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

Instinct  had  prepared  me  somewhat  for  this  violent  explo- 
sion, but  I  was  shocked  at  its  force  when  it  occurred.  It 
deepened  my  belief  that  my  uncle  was  a  downright,  honest, 
and  valiant  man ;  and  I  respected  the  righteousness  of  his 
anger,  but  I  was  bound  to  be  grieved  by  his  profanity.  He 
fumed  all  the  way  home  at  the  farceur,  and  yet  comforted 
himself  and  me,  saying, '  Never  mind,  laddie !  We  '11  get  along 
somehow  without  the  help  of  that  sweep.' 

Aunt  Maria's  conduct  when  we  reached  home  was  the 
beginning  of  a  new  experience.  She  called  me  aside  and  bor- 
rowed my  gold  sovereign,  for,  as  she  put  it,  '  Uncle  Tom  has 
now  been  out  of  work  for  over  three  weeks,  because,  you 
know,  it  was  necessary  to  call  every  day  on  the  false  friend, 
who  fed  him  with  hopes.  He  is  awfully  distressed  and  put 
out,  and  I  must  get  him  a  good  meal  or  two  to  put  spirit  into 
him.    In  a  day  or  two  he  will  be  all  right.' 

On  Monday  morning  of  the  next  week  she  borrowed  my 
Eton  suit,  and  took  it  to  the  place  of  the  three  gilt  balls.  The 
Monday  after,  she  took  my  overcoat  to  the  same  place,  and 
then  I  knew  that  the  family  was  in  great  trouble.  The  know- 
ledge of  this  was,  I  think,  the  first  real  sharpener  of  my  fac- 
ulties. Previously,  I  had  a  keen  sight,  and  acute  hearing,  but 
that  was  all :  there  had  been  no  effect  on  the  reason.  I  have 
often  wondered  that  I  was  so  slow  of  understanding  things 
which  had  been  obvious  to  little  Teddy  from  the  first. 

I  now  walked  the  streets  with  a  different  object  than  sight- 
seeing. Shop  windows  were  scrutinised  for  the  legend  '  Boy 
wanted.'  I  offered  my  services  scores  of  times,  and  received 
for  answer  that  I  was  either  too  young,  too  little,  not  smart 
enough,  or  I  was  too  late;  but  one  day,  after  a  score  of  re- 
fusals, I  obtained  my  first  employment  at  a  haberdasher's  in 
London  Road,  at  five  shillings  a  week ;  and  my  duties  were  to 
last  from  seven  in  the  morning  until  nine  at  night,  and  to  con- 
sist of  shop-sweeping,  lamp-trimming,  window-polishing,  etc. 

As  London  Road  was  some  distance  from  Roscommon 
Street,  I  had  to  rise  before  six  o'clock,  by  which  I  enjoyed  the 
company  of  uncle,  who  at  this  hour  prepared  his  own  morning 
meal.  At  such  times  he  was  in  the  best  of  moods.  He  made 
the  most  savoury  coffee,  and  was  more  generous  than  aunt 
with  the  bread  and  butter.   He  was  unvaryingly  sanguine  of 


ADRIFT  63 

my  ultimate  success  in  life.  He  would  say,  'Aye,  laddie,  thou 
'ilt  come  out  all  right  in  the  end.  It 's  a  little  hard  at  first,  I 
know,  but  better  times  are  coming,  take  my  word  for  it' ;  and 
he  would  cite  numerous  instances  of  men  in  Liverpool,  who, 
beginning  at  the  lowest  step,  had  risen  by  dint  of  perseverance 
and  patience  to  fabulous  wealth.  Those  early  breakfasts, 
while  Aunt  Maria  and  the  children  were  asleep,  and  uncle 
bustled  cheerfully  about  with  the  confidence  of  a  seer  in  the 
future,  have  been  treasured  in  my  memory. 

At  half-past  six  I  would  leave  the  house,  with  a  tin  bucket 
containing  bread  and  butter  and  a  little  cold  meat  to  support 
me  until  nine  at  night.  Thousands  in  similar  condition  were 
then  trudging  through  the  streets  to  their  various  tasks, 
bright,  happy,  and  regular  as  clock-work.  To  all  appearance 
they  took  pride  in  their  daily  toils,  and  I  felt  something  of  it, 
too,  though  the  heavy  shutters,  which  I  took  down  and  put 
up,  made  me  wince  when  I  remembered  them.  I  think  most 
of  us  would  have  preferred  the  work  with  the  wages  to  the 
wages  without  the  work.  The  mornings  were  generally  sun- 
less, the  buildings  very  grimy,  the  atmosphere  was  laden  with 
soot,  and  everything  was  dingy ;  but  few  of  us  thought  of  them 
as  we  moved  in  long  and  lively  procession  of  men  and  boys, 
women  and  girls,  with  complexions  blooming  like  peaches,  and 
lips  and  ears  reddened  with  rich  blood. 

As  it  drew  near  half-past  nine  at  night,  I  would  return  home 
with  different  views.  My  back  ached,  I  was  hungry  and  tired, 
and  a  supper  of  cockles  and  shrimps,  or  bloater,  was  not  at 
all  stimulating.  At  half-past  ten  I  would  be  abed,  weary  with 
excessive  weariness. 

So  long  as  my  fresh  country  strength  endured,  my  habits 
were  regular,  but  after  two  months  the  weight  of  the  shutters 
conquered  me,  and  sent  me  to  bed  for  a  week  to  recuperate. 
Meantime,  the  haberdasher  had  engaged  a  strong  boy  of 
eighteen  in  my  place.  Then  followed  a  month  of  tramping 
about  the  streets  again,  seeking  fresh  work,  during  which  I 
passed  through  the  usual  vicissitudes  of  hope  and  disappoint- 
ment. The  finances  of  the  family  fell  exceedingly  low.  Nearly 
all  my  clothes  departed  to  the  house  of  the  gilt  balls,  and 
their  loss  entailed  a  corresponding  loss  of  the  smartness  ex- 
pected in  office  or  shop-boys. 


64  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

Necessity  drove  me  further  afield,  even  as  far  as  the  Docks. 
It  was  then,  while  in  search  of  any  honest  work,  that  I  came 
across  the  bold  sailor-boys,  young  middies,  gorgeous  in  brass 
buttons,  whose  jaunty  air  of  hardihood  took  my  admiration 
captive.  In  the  windows  of  the  marine  slop-shops  were  ex- 
posed gaudy  kerchiefs  stamped  with  the  figures  of  the  Royal 
Princes  in  nautical  costume,  which  ennobled  the  sailor's 
profession,  though,  strange  to  say,  I  had  deemed  it  ignoble, 
hitherto.  This  elevation  of  it  seduced  me  to  enter  the  Docks, 
and  to  inspect  more  closely  the  vessels.  It  was  then  that  I 
marvelled  at  their  lines  and  size,  and  read  with  feelings  verg- 
ing on  awe  the  names  'Red  Jacket,5  'Blue  Jacket,'  'Chim- 
borazo,'  'Pocahontas,'  'Sovereign  of  the  Seas,'  'William 
Tapscott,'  etc.  There  was  romance  in  their  very  names.  And 
what  magnificent  ships  they  were!  Such  broad  and  long- 
reaching  extent  of  decks,  such  girth  of  hulk  and  dizzy  height 
of  masts !  What  an  atmosphere  of  distant  regions,  suggestive 
of  spicy  Ind,  and  Orient  isles!  The  perfume  of  strange  pro- 
ducts hung  about  them.  Out  of  their  vast  holds  came  col- 
oured grain,  bales  of  silks  hooped  with  iron,  hogsheads,  bar- 
rels, boxes,  and  sacks,  continuously,  until  the  piles  of  them 
rose  up  as  high  as  the  shed-roof. 

I  began  to  feel  interested  in  the  loud  turmoil  of  commerce. 
The  running  of  the  patent  tackles  was  like  music  to  me.  I 
enjoyed  the  clang  and  boom  of  metal  and  wood  on  the  granite 
floors,  and  it  was  grand  to  see  the  gathered  freight  from  all 
parts  of  the  world  under  English  roofs. 

On  boards  slung  to  the  rigging  were  notices  of  the  sailing 
of  the  ships,  and  their  destinations.  Some  were  bound  for 
New  York,  New  Orleans,  Demerara,  and  West  Indies,  others 
were  for  Bombay,  Calcutta,  Shanghai,  the  Cape,  Melbourne, 
Sydney,  etc.  What  kind  of  places  were  those  cities?  How 
did  these  monstrous  vessels  ever  leave  the  still  pools  walled 
round  with  granite?  I  burned  to  ask  these  and  similar  ques- 
tions. 

There  were  real  Liverpool  boys  about  me,  who  were  not 
unwilling  to  impart  the  desired  information.  They  pointed 
out  to  me  certain  stern-faced  men,  with  masterful  eyes,  as 
the  captains,  whose  commands  none  could  dispute  at  sea; 
men  of  unlimited  energy  and  potent  voices  as  the  mates,  or 


ADRIFT  65 

officers,  who  saw  to  the  carrying  out  of  their  superior's  com- 
mands; and  the  jerseyed  workmen  in  the  rigging  —  some  of 
whom  sported  gold  earrings,  and  expectorated  with  superb 
indifference  —  as  the  sailors  who  worked  the  ships  from  port 
to  port.  Each  of  these  seamen  bore  on  his  face  an  expression 
which  I  interpreted  to  mean  strength,  daring,  and  defiance. 

Before  I  parted  from  these  boys,  who  were  prodigies  of 
practical  wisdom,  and  profound  in  all  nautical  matters,  I  had 
learned  by  comparing  the  'Red  Jacket'  and  'Dreadnought' 
with  the  'American  Congress'  and  '  Winfield  Scott,'  the  differ- 
ence between  a  first-class  clipper  and  an  ordinary  emigrant 
packet,  and  why  some  ships  were  'Black-Bailers'  and  others 
'Red-Crossers,'  and  how  to  distinguish  between  a  vessel  built 
in  Boston  and  one  of  British  build. 

One  day,  in  my  wanderings  in  search  of  work,  I  rambled 
up  a  by-street  close  to  the  Brambley  Moor  Dock,  and  saw 
over  a  butcher's  stall  a  notice,  'Boy  wanted.'  I  applied  for 
the  vacancy,  and  Mr.  Goff,  the  proprietor,  a  pleasant-faced, 
prosperous-looking  man,  engaged  me  instantly  and  turned 
me  over  to  his  foreman.  This  man,  a  hard,  sinister-faced 
Scotsman,  for  his  fixed  scowl,  and  implacable  irascibility, 
was  a  twin  brother  of  Spleen.  There  never  was  such  a  con- 
stant fault-finder,  and,  for  general  cantankerousness,  I  have 
never  met  his  like.  The  necessity  of  finding  some  work  to  do, 
and  of  never  leaving  it,  except  for  a  change  of  work,  called 
forth  my  utmost  efforts  to  please ;  but  the  perpetual  scolding 
and  cross  tantrums,  in  which  he  seemed  to  take  delight,  ef- 
fectually baffled  my  simple  arts.  This  man's  eyes  peculiarly 
affected  me.  They  were  of  the  colour  of  mud,  and  their  pin- 
point pupils  sparkled  with  the  cruel  malignity  of  a  snake's. 
When,  in  after  years,  I  first  looked  into  the  visual  orbs  of  the 
African  crocodile,  my  first  thought  was  of  the  eyes  of  Goff's 
foreman.  Heaven  forbid  that  after  such  a  long  period  I  should 
malign  him,  but  I  cannot  resist  the  conviction  that  when  he 
died,  those  who  had  known  him  must  have  breathed  freer! 

Wretched  as  was  my  fortnight's  stay  at  the  butcher's  under 
the  inhumanly-malicious  foreman,  it  was  the  means  of  my 
becoming  more  intimately  acquainted  with  the  stern  lords 
of  the  sea,  and  their  stately  ships;  for  my  work  consisted 
in  carrying  baskets  of  fresh  provisions  to  the  vessels  in  the 


66  HENRY   M.  STANLEY 

docks ;  and  Time  and  Fate  had  so  ordered  it  that  through  this 
acquaintance  I  should  be  shunted  into  another  line  of  life. 

During  the  last  few  weeks  domestic  matters  at  Roscommon 
Street  had  not  been  at  all  pleasant.  The  finances  of  the  family 
had  fallen  very  low,  and  it  had  been  evident  that  here,  also, 
as  at  Ffynnon  Beuno,  there  was  a  wide  distinction  between 
children  who  had  parents  and  those  who  were  orphaned.  For 
if  ever  a  discussion  rose  between  my  cousin  and  myself,  my 
uncle  and  aunt  were  invariably  partial  to  their  own,  when 
called  to  arbitrate  between  us.  It  was  obvious  that  I  was  the 
least  aggressive  and  troublesome,  the  most  respectful  and 
sympathetic,  of  the  younger  members  of  the  family,  but  these 
merits  were  as  naught  when  weighed  in  the  scales  of  affection. 
Teddy's  temper,  made  arrogant  by  the  conceit  that  he  was  his 
father's  son,  required  to  be  curbed  sometimes ;  but  if  I  asserted 
myself,  and  promised  him  a  thrashing,  the  maternal  bosom 
was  a  sure  refuge ;  and,  as  each  mother  thinks  her  son  more 
perfect  than  any  other  boy,  a  certain  defeat  awaited  me. 
Just  as  I  had  submitted  to  the  humours  of  David  at  Ffynnon 
Beuno,  I  was  forced  to  submit  to  those  of  Teddy.  If  aunt's 
censures  of  me  were  not  sufficient  to  ensure  immunity  to 
the  nagging  boy,  there  was  the  old  man's  rough  tongue  to 
encounter. 

Slowly  the  thought  was  formed  that  if  I  were  not  to  be 
permitted  to  resent  Teddy's  infirmities  of  temper,  nor  to  ob- 
tain the  protection  of  his  over-indulgent  parents,  my  condi- 
tion could  not  be  worse  if  I  exchanged  the  growing  intolerance 
of  the  evil  for  some  other,  where,  at  least,  I  should  enjoy  the 
liberty  of  kicking  occasionally.  On  striking  a  balance  between 
the  gains  of  living  with  Teddy's  family  and  the  crosses  re- 
ceived through  Teddy's  insolence,  it  appeared  to  my  imper- 
fect mind  that  my  humiliation  was  in  excess.  I  had  not  ob- 
tained the  clerkship  for  which  I  had  left  Wales,  my  gold 
sovereign  was  gone,  all  my  clothes  were  in  the  pawnshop.  I 
had  fallen  so  low  as  to  become  a  butcher's  errand  boy,  under  a 
brute.  At  home,  there  was  as  little  peace  at  night,  as  there 
was,  during  the  day,  with  the  foreman.  Exposed  to  the  unruly 
spitefulness  of  Teddy,  the  frowns  of  aunt,  the  hasty  anger  of 
uncle,  and  the  unholy  fury  of  the  Scotsman,  I  was  in  a  fair 
way  of  being  ground  very  fine. 


ADRIFT  67 

At  this  juncture,  and  while  in  an  indifferent  mood,  Fate 
caused  a  little  incident  to  occur  which  settled  my  course  for 
me.  I  was  sent  to  the  packet-ship  '  Windermere'  with  a  basket 
of  provisions,  and  a  note  to  Captain  David  Hardinge.  While 
the  great  man  read  his  note,  I  gazed  admiringly  at  the  rich 
furniture  of  the  cabin,  the  gilded  mirrors,  and  glittering 
cornices,  and  speculated  as  to  the  intrinsic  value  of  this  gild- 
ing, but,  suddenly,  I  became  conscious  that  I  was  being 
scrutinised. 

'I  see,'  said  the  captain,  in  a  strong  and  rich  voice,  'that 
you  admire  my  cabin.    How  would  you  like  to  live  in  it?' 

'Sir?'  I  answered,  astonished. 

'I  say,  how  would  you  like  to  sail  in  this  ship?' 

'But  I  know  nothing  of  the  sea,  sir.' 

'Sho !  You  will  soon  learn  all  that  you  have  to  do ;  and,  in 
time,  you  may  become  a  captain  of  as  fine  a  ship.  We  skippers 
have  all  been  boys,  you  know.  Come,  what  do  you  say  to 
going  with  me  as  cabin-boy?  I  will  give  you  five  dollars  a 
month,  and  an  outfit.  In  three  days  we  start  for  New  Orleans, 
to  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave.' 

All  my  discontent  gathered  into  a  head  in  a  moment,  and 
inspired  the  answer:  'I  will  go  with  you,  sir,  if  you  think  I 
will  suit.' 

'That's  all  right.  Steward  !'  he  cried ;  and,  when  the  man 
came,  the  captain  gave  him  his  instructions  about  me.  As  he 
spoke,  I  realised  somewhat  more  clearly  what  a  great  step 
I  had  taken,  and  that  it  was  beyond  my  power  to  withdraw 
from  it,  even  if  I  should  wish  to  do  so. 

There  was  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  GofT's  consent  to  quit 
his  service;  and  the  fiendish  foreman  only  gave  a  sardonic 
smile  which  might  mean  anything.  As  I  strode  towards  home, 
my  feelings  varied  from  spasms  of  regret  to  gushes  of  joy,  as 
I  mentally  analysed  the  coming  change.  Larded  bread,  and  a 
sordid  life  with  its  pawnshops  and  family  bickerings,  were  to 
be  exchanged  for  full  rations  and  independence.  Constant 
suppression  from  those  who  usurped  the  right  to  control  my 
actions,  words,  and  thoughts,  was  to  be  exchanged  for  the 
liberty  enjoyed  by  the  rest  of  the  world's  toilers.  These  were 
the  thoughts  which  pleased  me;  but  when  I  regarded  the 
other  side,  a  haunting  sense  of  insecurity  and  foreboding 


68  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

sobered  me,  and  made  me  unhappy.  Then  there  was  a  certain 
feeling  of  affection  for  my  native  land  and  family.  Oh !  if  my 
discontent  had  not  been  so  great,  if  Uncle  Tom  had  been  only 
more  just,  I  had  clung  to  them  like  a  limpet  to  a  rock!  It 
needed  all  the  force  of  reason,  and  the  memories  of  many 
unhappinesses  and  innumerable  spites,  to  sever  all  connection 
with  my  humble  love,  and  accept  this  offer  of  freedom  and 
release  from  slavery.  The  magnitude  of  the  change,  and  the 
inevitable  sundering  of  all  earthly  ties  at  such  short  notice, 
troubled  me  greatly ;  but  they  had  no  effect  in  altering  my 
decision. 

When  the  old  man  reached  home  and  heard  the  news,  he 
appeared  quite  staggered.  'What!  Going  to  America!'  he 
exclaimed.  'Shipped  as  a  cabin-boy !  Come  now,  tell  me  what 
put  that  idea  into  your  head  ?  Has  anything  happened  here 
that  I  do  not  know?   Eh,  wife,  how  is  this?' 

His  sincere  regret  made  it  harder  than  ever  to  part.  It  was 
in  my  nature  to  hate  parting.  Aunt  joined  her  arguments  to 
those  of  Uncle  Tom  to  dissuade  me.  But  there  rose  up  before 
me  a  great  bulk  of  wretchedness,  my  slavish  dependence  on 
relatives  who  could  scarcely  support  themselves,  my  unfor- 
tunate employment,  Teddy's  exasperating  insolence,  family 
recriminations,  my  beggar's  wardrobe,  and  daily  diet  of 
contumely ;  and  I  looked  up  from  the  introspection,  and,  with 
fixed  resolve,  said  :  — 

1  It  is  no  use,  uncle.  I  must  go.  There  is  no  chance  of  doing 
anything  in  Liverpool' ;  and,  though  he  was  not  of  a  yielding 
disposition,  uncle  consented  at  last. 

In  strict  justice,  however,  to  his  character,  I  must  admit 
that,  had  circumstances  been  equal  to  his  deserving,  his 
nephew  would  never  have  been  permitted  to  leave  England 
with  his  consent ;  for,  according  to  him,  there  was  no  place 
in  all  the  world  like  England. 

On  the  third  day  the  'Windermere'  was  warped  out  of 
dock,  and  then  a  steam-tug  towed  her  out  into  mid-river. 
Shortly  after,  a  tug  brought  the  crew  alongside.  Sail  was 
loosened,  and  our  ship  was  drawn  towards  the  ocean,  and,  as 
she  headed  for  the  sea,  the  sailors,  with  rousing  choruses, 
hoisted  topsails,  and  sheeted  them  home. 


CHAPTER  III 
AT  SEA 

WHEN  the  'Windermere'  was  deserted  by  the  tug, 
and  she  rose  and  fell  to  the  waves,  I  became 
troubled  with  a  strange  lightness  of  the  head,  and 
presently  I  seemed  to  stand  in  the  centre  of  a  great  circle 
around  which  sea,  and  sky,  and  ship  revolved  at  great  speed. 
Then  for  three  days  I  lay  oblivious,  helpless,  and  grieving ;  but, 
at  the  deck-washing  on  the  fourth  morning,  I  was  quickened 
into  sudden  life  and  activity  by  hearing  a  hoarse,  rasping 
voice,  whose  owner  seemed  in  a  violent  passion,  bawling  down 
the  scuttle :  '  Now  then,  come  out  of  that,  you  —  young  Brit- 
isher!   Step  up  here  in  a  brace  of  shakes,  or  I'll  come  down 

and  skin  your carcase  alive !' 

The  furious  peremptoriness  of  the  voice  was  enough  to 
rouse  the  dead,  and  the  fear  of  the  ogre's  threats  drove  all 
feelings  of  sickly  wretchedness  away,  and  drew  me  on  deck 
immediately.  My  nerves  tingled,  and  my  senses  seemed  to 
swim,  as  I  cast  a  look  at  the  unsteady  sea  and  uneasy  ship; 
but  the  strong  penetrating  breeze  was  certainly  a  powerful 
tonic,  though  not  such  a  reviver  as  the  sight  of  the  ireful 
fellow  who  came  on  at  a  tearing  pace  towards  me  and  hissed : 
'Seize  that  scrubbing-broom,  you  —  joskin!  Lay  hold  of  it, 
I  say,  and  scrub,  you  —  son  of  a  sea-cook !  Scrub  like  — ! 
Scrub  until  you  drop !  Sweat,  you  —  swab !  Dig  into  the  deck 

you white-livered  lime-juicer! ' 

I  stole  the  briefest  possible  glance  at  his  inflamed  face,  to 
catch  some  idea  of  the  man  who  could  work  himself  into  such 
an  intense  rage,  for  he  was  a  kind  of  creature  never  dreamed 
of  before  by  me.  Seeing  me  bend  to  my  task  without  argu- 
ment or  delay,  he  darted  to  another  boy  on  the  lee  side,  and 
with  extreme  irony  and  retracted  lips,  stooped,  with  hands 
on  knees,  and  said  to  him:  'Now,  Harry,  my  lad,  I  am  sure 
you  don't  want  the  toe  of  my  boot  to  touch  ungently  those 
crescents  of  yours.   Do  you  now?' 


70  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

'No,  sir,'  said  the  boy  promptly. 

'All  right,  then,  my  sweet  son  of  a  gun.  Lay  your  weight 
on  that  broom,  and  let  her  rip,  d'  ye  hear?' 

'Aye,  aye,  sir.' 

Nelson,  for  that  was  his  name,  straightened  himself,  and 
cruelly  smiling,  observed  the  sailors,  who  were  scrubbing  and 
holy-stoning  with  exemplary  industry,  and  then  moved 
towards  them  discharging  salvoes  of  blasphemies  on  their 
heads,  of  varying  force  and  character.  I  wondered,  as  between 
the  tremendous  oaths  I  heard  the  sigh  of  the  sea  and  the 
moan  of  the  wind,  how  long  the  Almighty  would  restrain  His 
hand.  I  scrubbed  away  until  I  became  heated,  but  my 
thoughts  were  far  from  my  work.  I  was  trying  to  unravel 
vague  ideas  about  the  oddness  of  things  in  this  world.  It 
seemed  to  me  surprising  that,  while  so  many  people  on  land 
feared  to  take  the  name  of  God  in  vain,  men  on  the  great  sea, 
surrounded  by  perils  and  wonders,  could  shout  aloud  their 
defiance  of  heaven  and  hell.  There  was  not  a  soul  on  board 
with  whom  I  could  exchange  my  inner  thoughts,  and,  from 
this  period,  I  contracted  a  habit  of  communing  with  myself. 

At  eight  bells  I  was  told  I  belonged  to  Nelson,  the  second 
mate's  watch,  and  that  my  berth  wras  with  Harry,  in  the 
apprentice  cabin  on  the  main  deck.  There  was  no  mention  of 
the  cabin-boy  appointment.  When  the  watch  wras  relieved, 
Harry  and  I  had  a  talk.  This  boy  had  already  made  one 
voyage  on  the  'Windermere,'  and,  though  he  despised  green- 
horns, among  whom  he  classed  me,  he  was  pleased  to  be  good- 
natured  with  me,  probably  because  I  showed  such  deference 
to  his  spirit  and  experience.  He  graciously  promised  to 
coach  me,  or,  rather,  put  me  'up  to  the  ropes,'  that  I  might 
avoid  a  few  of  the  punishments  mates  are  so  quick  to  bestow 
on  dull  ship-boys. 

When  I  told  him  that  I  had  been  engaged  as  cabin-boy,  he 
was  uncommonly  amused,  and  said  that  the  skipper  was  at 
his  'old  game.'  'On  the  last  voyage  we  had  two  boys  who 
had  been  induced  to  join  in  the  same  way,  but,  as  soon  as 
we  were  out  to  sea,  Nelson  got  a  hint  from  the  "cappen"  and 
fell  on  them  like  a  thousand  of  bricks,  and  chased  them  forrard 
pretty  quick,  I  tell  ye.  They  were  bully-ragged  all  the  way 
to  New  Orleans,  and  at  the  pier  they  sloped,  leaving  their 


AT  SEA  71 

sea-duds  to  me.  We  made  a  good  thing  out  of  the  young 
duffers.  The  skipper  must  have  cleared  twenty-five  dollars 
in  wages  from  the  pair  of  them,  the  mates  had  their  fun  out 
of  them,  and  I  had  their  toggery. 

'What  you  've  got  to  do  is  to  mind  your  eye.  Look  out  for 
Nelson,  and  be  lively.  That  man  ain't  no  softy,  I  tell  ye.  If 
he  comes  down  on  you,  you  '11  get  it  hot,  and  no  mistake. 
When  he  sings  out,  jump,  as  though  you  were  bitten,  and 
answer,  "Aye,  aye,  sir."  Never  forget  to  "sir"  him.  Whether 
it's  scrubbing,  or  brass-cleaning,  or  hauling,  stick  to  your  job 
like  —  and  "sharp"  's  the  word  every7  time.  The  second 
mate  is  bad  enough,  but  Waters,  the  chief  mate,  is  the  very 
devil.  With  him  the  blow  goes  before  the  wTord,  while  Nelson 
roars  like  a  true  sea-dog  before  he  strikes.  Good  Lord,  I've 
seen  some  sights  aboard  this  packet,  I  have.' 

'  But  how  did  the  captain  make  twenty-five  dollars  by  the 
boys  on  the  last  voyage?' 

1  How  ?  Well  you  are  a  goose !  Why,  they  left  their  wages, 
over  two  months  due,  in  his  hands,  when  they  ran  away  from 
the  ship  for  fear  of  worse  treatment  going  home.  Aye,  that 's 
the  ticket,  and  the  size  of  it,  my  little  matey.  Haze  and 
bully  the  young  lubbers  well  at  sea,  and  they  scoot  ashore  the 
first  chance  they  get.' 

'Were  the  mates  not  hard  on  you?' 

'Oh,  Waters  took  me  into  his  watch,  and  showed  a  liking 
for  me,  for,  you  see,  I  was  not  quite  a  greeny.  My  father  saw 
me  properly  shipped,  and  I  signed  articles.  They  didn't,  but 
came  aboard  with  the  cappen's  permission,  and  so  did  you. 
The  skipper  has  to  account  for  me  when  he  gets  to  port ;  but 
you,  you  may  be  blown  overboard,  and  no  one  would  be  the 
wiser.  I  am  now  as  good  as  an  ordinary  seaman,  though  too 
young  for  the  forecastle.  I  can  furl  royals  as  spry-  as  any 
bucco  sailor  on  board,  and  know  every  rope  on  the  ship, 
while  you  don't  know  stem  from  stern.' 

These  glib  nautical  phrases,  most  of  which  were  but  vaguely 
understood  by  me,  his  assurance,  his  daring,  his  want  of 
feeling,  made  me  admire  and  wonder  at  him.  He  was  a  typical 
sea-boy,  with  a  glitter  in  his  eyes  and  bloom  in  his  smooth 
cheeks  that  told  of  superabundant  health  and  hardiesse.  But 
for  one  thing,  a  prince  might  have  been  proud  of  him  as  a  son. 


72  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

Satan,  I  thought,  had  already  adopted  him.  His  absolute 
ignorance  of  religion,  his  awful  coarseness  of  speech,  removed 
him  miles  away  from  me,  as  though  he  were  a  brave  young 
savage  of  another  nation  and  language,  and  utterly  incom- 
prehensible to  me.  He  was  not  to  be  imitated  in  any  way, 
and  yet  he  obtained  my  admiration,  because  he  had  been  to 
America,  had  manfully  endured  the  tortures  of  sea-life,  and 
bore  himself  indomitably. 

Long  Hart,  the  cook,  was  another  kind  of  hero  to  me.  He 
stood  over  six  feet  high  in  his  galley  felts,  and  his  saffron 
complexion  and  creased  neck  spoke  of  foreign  suns,  maritime 
romance,  and  many  voyages.  The  gold  earrings  he  wore  I 
suspected  belonged  to  his  dead  wives.  His  nethers  consisted 
of  black  doe-skin,  his  body  was  cased  in  a  dark  blue  jersey,  and 
a  blue  Phrygian  cap  covered  his  head.  He  disdained  the  use  of 
sailors'  colloquialisms,  and  spoke  like  a  school-master  in  very 
grand  words.  My  rustic  innocence  appeared  to  have  an  at- 
traction for  him ;  on  the  second  evening  after  my  recovery,  he 
offered  the  freedom  of  his  galley  to  me,  and,  when  I  brought 
the  apprentice  kids,  he  was  generous  in  his  helpings  of  soft- 
tack,  scouse,  and  duff.  During  the  dog-watches  he  spun  long 
yarns  about  his  experiences  in  deep-sea  ships,  and  voyages  to 
Callao,  California,  West  Coast  of  Africa,  and  elsewhere,  many 
of  which  were  horrible  on  account  of  the  cruelty  practised  on 
sailors.  I  heard  of  poor  sailors  hoisted  up  to  the  yard-arm, 
and  ducked  by  the  run  in  the  sea  until  they  were  nearly 
drowned ;  of  men  being  keel-hauled,  tied  stark-naked  to  the 
windlass,  and  subjected  to  the  most  horrible  indignities,  put 
over  the  ship's  side  to  scrub  the  ship's  coppers  in  the  roasting 
hot  sun,  and  much  else  which  made  me  thankful  that  the  cap- 
tains of  the  day  were  not  so  cruel  as  those  twenty  years  back. 
His  condescension  to  a  young  lubber  like  myself,  and  his 
generosity,  won  from  me  such  deference  and  civility  that  he 
assumed  a  kind  of  protectorship  over  me,  and  assisted  in  the 
enlightenment  of  my  understanding  about  many  things. 

The  crew  consisted  mainly  of  Anglo-Irish,  Dutchmen,  one 
or  two  English,  and  as  many  Yankees.  They  were  undisci- 
plined spirits,  who  found  the  wild  sea-life  congenial  to  their 
half-savage  natures,  and  had  formed  the  odd  notion  that  to 
be  sailors  was  to  be  of  nobler  stuff  than  shoremen,  and  ac- 


AT  SEA  73 

cordingly  swaggered  magnificently  whenever  they  could  do 
it  safely.  For  some  reason  they  had  conceived  their  nobility 
to  lie  in  the  fact  that  they  had  voluntarily  adopted  a  more 
perilous  profession  than  any  practised  by  landsmen.  They 
were  adored  by  the  girls  in  port,  and  enjoyed  the  privilege  of 
gloriously  swearing  whenever  they  chose,  and  the  pleasure  of 
this  conceit  gave  them  happiness.  Shoremen  seldom  swore,  ex- 
cept the  dockmen,  who  aped  sailors'  manners  and  gait.  They 
went  to  church,  feared  the  constables,  seldom  got  drunk  or 
went  on  a  spree,  sported  gloves,  and  seemed  afraid  of  work. 

When  they  catch  these  shore-lubbers  at  sea,  the  sailors' 
contempt  for  them  is  very  manifest.  They  are  delighted  when 
they  are  sea-sick,  oaths  and  blows  are  freely  dealt  to  them, 
they  take  pleasure  in  provoking  their  aversion  to  slush  and 
tar,  and  secretly  enjoy  their  cruel  treatment  by  the  mates.  As 
they  made  me  feel  my  inferiority  to  Harry,  I  have  since  wit- 
nessed many  another  treated  in  the  same  way.  Poor  brutes ! 
considering  the  slave  life  they  lead,  it  would  be  a  pity  to  de- 
prive them  of  this  miserable  consolation. 

The  discipline  of  the  'Windermere'  was  well  begun  by  the 
time  I  regained  health.  It  was  the  pride  of  the  officers  that, 
though  the  'Windermere'  was  not  a  'Black-Ball'  packet,  she 
was  big  and  smart  enough  to  be  one,  and  they  were  resolved 
that  the  customs  of  the  Black-Bailer  should  prevail  on  board, 
and  that  the  discipline  should  be  of  the  same  quality.  Whether 
it  came  up  to  the  regulation  standard  I  do  not  know,  but  just 
as  Francis  flogged,  beat,  and  pummelled  the  infants  under 
his  charge,  so  the  ruffian  mates  stormed,  swore,  and  struck 
or  booted  the  full-grown  wretches  on  board  the  '  Windermere.' 
The  captain  was  too  high  and  mighty  to  interfere,  or  he  may 
have  issued  his  orders  to  that  purpose,  and  was  satisfied  with 
the  zealous  service  of  his  mates :  at  any  rate,  I  scarcely  heard 
his  voice  except  during  gales  of  wind,  and  then  it  was  stern 
and  strident. 

Strange  to  say,  the  majority  of  the  sailors  preferred  the 
American  ships,  with  all  their  brutality,  to  the  English,  with 
their  daily  doses  of  lime-juice.  Harry,  Long  Hart,  and  the 
forecastle  arguments  which  we  had  perforce  to  hear,  as  our 
den  adjoined  that  of  the  sailors,  sufficiently  informed  me  of 
the  fact  that  the  soft-tack,  plum-duff,  good  mess  of  beef  of  the 


74  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

Yankees,  were  preferred  to  the  weevilly-biscuit,  horse-beef, 
and  gill  of  lime-juice  of  the  British.  'Give  me,'  said  a  fore- 
castle orator,  'a  Yankee  ship,  and  not  a  lousy  lime-juicer. 
Even  on  the  worst  Yankee  ship  afloat  no  bucco  sailor  need 
fear  the  mates.  If  a  man  knows  his  duty  and  won't  shirk,  he 
is  safe  against  the  devil  himself,  I  say.  Watch  Bully  Waters 
himself.  He  never  drops  on  a  real  shell-back,  but  on  some 
infernal  land-lubber  who  has  shipped  as  an  A.  B.,  when  he  is 
not  fit  to  carry  guts  to  a  bear.  It  is  the  loutish  Dutchmen  and 
Swedes  who  have  spoiled  these  packet-ships.  You  can't  expect 
mates,  in  a  squall  of  wind  that  may  whip  the  masts  off,  to 
stand  still  until  their  orders  enter  the  stupid  head  of  a  Dutch- 
man who  does  n't  know  a  word  of  English.  Well,  what  must 
they  do?  The  ship  is  their  first  duty,  and  they  fly  at  the 
Dutchman,  and  if  the  Dutchman  don't  understand  that  he 
must  skip  —  he  must  stand  and  be  skinned.  There's  my 
sentiments.' 

I  heard  such  defence  scores  of  times,  which  proves  that  the 
worst  side  has  something  to  say  for  itself. 

It  may  have  been  the  shell-back's  boast  or  Harry's  criticism 
which  induced  me,  when  on  deck,  to  observe  more  closely  that 
professional  superiority  which  made  the  'bucco  sailor'  so 
fearless.  It  seemed  to  me  that  though  the  'old  hands'  knew 
their  work  well,  they  took  precious  care  to  do  as  little  as  pos- 
sible ;  and,  had  anyone  asked  me,  after  I  had  got  safely  ashore, 
what  I  thought  of  them,  I  should  have  said  that  they  did 
more  'dusting  round'  than  real  work. 

It  is  true  the  'old  salts'  were  loudest  in  their  responses  to 
the  mate's  commands,  that  they  led  the  bowline  song  and  the 
halliard  chant,  were  cheerier  with  their  'Aye,  ayes,'  'Belays/ 
'Vast  hauling,'  and  chorus;  that  they  strove  whose  hands 
should  be  uppermost  at  the  halliards  and  nearest  to  the 
tackles ;  but  all  this  did  not  impress  me  so  much  as  they  might 
think  it  did.  When  the  officers  thundered  out,  'All  hands 
shorten  sail,'  'Furl  top-gallant  sails,'  or  '  Reef  topsail,'  the 
shell-backs  appeared  to  delay  under  various  shifty  pretexts 
to  climb  up  the  rigging,  in  order  that  being  last  they  might 
occupy  the  safe  position  at  the  bunt  of  the  sails;  and  when 
it  was  only  a  four-man  job,  the  way  in  which  they  noisily 
passed  the  word  along,  without  offering  to  move,  was  most 


AT  SEA  75 

artful.  At  serving,  splicing,  and  steering,  the  skill  of  the  old 
hands  counted  greatly,  no  doubt ;  but  in  work  aloft  they  were 
nowhere,  compared  to  those  Dutchmen  and  Norwegians 
they  so  much  derided.  They  were,  in  fact,  strategists  in  the 
arts  of  shirking. 

Sometimes  the  'sojering,'  as  it  was  called,  was  a  little  too 
conspicuous;  and  then  Bully  Waters,  with  awful  energy  and 
frantic  malice,  drew  blood  from  'old  salt'  and  'joskin'  indis- 
criminately, with  iron  belaying-pins,  and  kicked,  and  pounded, 
until  I  sickened  at  the  sound  of  the  deadly  thuds,  and  the 
faces  streaming  with  blood ;  but  I  was  compelled  to  admit  that 
for  some  days  after  there  would  be  a  more  spontaneous  brisk- 
ness to  obey  orders,  and  old  and  young  regarded  the  fiery 
mate  from  the  corners  of  their  eyes. 

Five  days  from  Liverpool  there  suddenly  appeared  on  deck 
three  stowaways,  —  two  Irish  boys  of  about  fourteen  and 
fifteen,  and  an  Irishman,  —  ragged,  haggard,  and  spiritless 
from  hunger,  sickness,  and  confinement.  Of  course  they  had 
to  undergo  the  ordeal  of  inspection  by  the  stern  captain,  who 
contemptuously  dismissed  them  as  though  they  were  too  vile 
to  look  at;  but  Nelson  chivied  the  three  unfortunates  from 
the  poop  to  the  bow  to  'warm  their  cockles,'  as  he  phrased  it. 
The  cries  of  the  youngest  boy  were  shrillest  and  loudest,  but, 
when  he  afterwards  emerged  to  beg  food,  we  guessed  by  his 
roguish  smile  that  he  had  been  least  hurt.  Harry  expressed 
his  opinion  that  he  was  a  'Liverpool  rat/  who  would  cer- 
tainly end  his  days  in  the  State's  prison. 

Curiously  enough,  the  presence  of  these  two  young  stowa- 
ways acted  as  a  buffer  between  me  and  a  considerable  amount 
of  inglorious  mauling,  which  Nelson,  for  practice'  sake,  would 
have  inflicted  on  my  'Royal  Bengal,  British  person,'  as,  with 
playful  devilry,  he  admitted.  But  the  rogues  did  not  appear 
to  be  very  sensitive  about  the  indignity  to  which  they  were 
subjected.  The  younger  Paddy  disturbed  the  ship  with  shrill 
screams  if  Nelson  but  raised  his  hand,  and  thus  his  rat's  wit 
saved  him  often.  O'Flynn,  the  eldest  boy,  would  run  and 
dodge  his  tormentor,  until  Nelson,  who  seemed  to  love  the 
fun  of  licking  them,  through  cunning  caught  them,  and  then 
the  cries  of  the  innocents  would  be  heart-rending. 

Before  many  days  had  passed,  I  had  discovered  that  Nelson 


76  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

had  also  his  arts.  Though  I  had  never  been  in  a  theatre,  and 
could  not  understand,  at  first,  why  one  man  should  assume 
so  many  poses,  I  should  have  been  blind  not  to  perceive  that 
the  real  self  of  Nelson  was  kept  in  reserve,  and  that  he  amused 
himself  by  behaving  differently  to  each  on  board.  He  had 
one  way  with  the  captain,  another  with  his  colleague,  and 
various  were  the  styles  he  assumed  before  the  sailors.  From 
profound  deference  to  Captain  Hardinge,  and  respectful 
fellowship  with  Waters,  he  gradually  rose  in  his  own  esti- 
mation as  he  addressed  himself  to  the  lower  grades,  until  to 
me  he  was  arrogance  personified,  and  to  the  stowaways  a 
'born-hellian.'  With  Harry  he  indulged  in  broad  irony,  to  the 
more  stodgy  of  the  crew  he  was  a  champion  prize-fighter,  to 
others  he  spoke  with  a  dangerous  smoothness,  with  lips 
retracted ;  but  behind  every  character  he  adopted  stood  the 
real  Nelson,  a  ferocious  and  short-tempered  brute,  ready  to 
blaze  up  into  bloody  violence. 

Until  we  were  abreast  of  Biscay  Bay  we  experienced  no 
bad  weather,  but  rolled  along  comfortably  under  moderate 
breezes,  with  a  spiteful  gust  or  two.  I  was  gradually  becom- 
ing seasoned,  and  indifferent  to  the  swing-swang  of  the  sea. 
As  Nelson  said,  with  a  condescending  but  evil  smile,  I  was 
'fresh  as  a  daisy.'  The  gales  and  tempests  about  which 
Harry  and  Long  Hart  loved  to  talk  were  so  long  a-coming 
that  I  doubted  whether  the  sea  was  really  so  very  dreadful, 
or  that  the  canvas  towers  would  ever  need  to  be  taken  in. 
From  sunrise  down  to  the  decline  of  day  our  mast-heads 
drew  apparently  the  same  regular  lines  and  curves  against  a 
clear  sky.  But  now  the  blue  disappeared  under  depths  of 
clouds  which  intensified  into  blackness  very  rapidly,  and  the 
whistling  whispers  in  the  shrouds  changed  their  note.  The 
sea  abandoned  its  mechanical  heave,  and  languid  upshoot  of 
scattered  crests.  Whether  the  sky  had  signalled  the  change 
and  the  sea  obeyed,  or  whether  the  elements  were  acting 
simultaneously,  I  knew  not,  but,  just  as  the  cloudiness  had 
deepened,  a  shadow  passed  over  the  ocean,  until  it  was  almost 
black  in  colour;  and  then,  to  windward,  I  could  see  battalion 
after  battalion  of  white-caps  rushing  gaily,  exultingly,  towards 
us.  The  watches  were  mustered :  captain  and  mates  appeared 
with  oil-skins  ready,  and  when  the  wind  began  to  sing  in 


AT  SEA  77 

louder  notes,  and  the  great  packet  surged  over  on  her  side, 
and  the  water  shot  through  the  scuppers,  the  captain  shook 
his  head  disparagingly  and  cried,  'Shorten  sail,  Mr.  Waters ;  in 
with  royals  and  top-gallant  sails,  down  with  the  flying  jib/ 
etc.,  etc. 

This  was  the  period  when  I  thought  Mr.  Waters  was  at  his 
grandest.  His  trumpet-like  voice  was  heard  in  'larum  tones, 
as  though  the  existence  of  a  fleet  was  at  stake;  and  every 
'man- jack'  seemed  electrified  and  flew  to  his  duty  with  all 
ardour.  Nor  was  Nelson  behind  Waters  in  energy.  The 
warning  sounds  of  the  wind  had  announced  that  intensity  of 
action  was  expected  from  every  soul.  The  waves  leaped  over 
the  high  foreboard,  and  the  ship  was  pressed  over  until  the 
deck  was  as  steep  as  the  roof  of  a  church,  and  a  foaming 
cataract  impended  over  us.  Then  it  was  the  mates  bawled 
out  aloud,  and  sailors  clambered  up  the  shrouds  in  a  frenzy 
of  briskness,  and  the  deck-hands  bawled  and  sang  after  a 
fashion  I  had  not  heard  before,  while  blocks  tam-tammed 
recklessly,  great  sail-sheets  danced  wildly  in  the  air,  and 
every  now  and  then  a  thunder  sound,  from  bursting  canvas, 
added  to  the  general  excitement.  Though  somewhat  be- 
wildered by  the  windy  blasts,  the  uproar  of  rushing  waters, 
and  the  fury  of  captain  and  crew,  I  could  not  help  being 
fascinated  by  the  scene,  and  admiring  the  passionate  energy 
of  officers  and  crew.  A  gale  at  sea  is  as  stimulating  as  a  battle. 

When  the  area  of  sail  had  been  reduced  to  the  limit  of 
safety,  we  had  a  clearer  view  fore  and  aft,  and  I  had  more 
leisure  to  listen  to  the  wind-music  in  the  shrouds,  to  observe 
the  graver  aspect  of  the  sea,  and  to  be  influenced  by  un- 
speakable impressions.  What  a  power  this  invisible  element, 
which  had  stirred  the  sea  to  madness,  was !  If  I  raised  my 
head  above  the  bulwarks,  it  filled  my  eyes  with  tears,  tore  at 
my  hair,  drove  up  my  nostrils  with  such  force  as  to  make  me 
gasp.  It  flew  up  our  trousers,  and  under  our  oilskin  jackets, 
and  inflated  us  until  we  resembled  the  plumpest  effigies  con- 
ceivable. 

In  the  height  of  the  turmoil,  while  trying  to  control  my 
ideas,  I  was  startled  by  the  penetrating  voice  of  Waters 
singing  in  my  ear. 

'Now,  my  young  pudding-faced  joker,  why  are  you  stand- 


78  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

ing  here  with  your  mouth  wide  open?  Get  a  swab,  you 
monkey,  and  swab  up  this  poop,  or  I'll  jump  down  your  — 
throat.  Look  alive  now,  you  sweet-scented  son  of  a  sea-cook ! ' 

That  first  voyage  of  mine  was  certainly  a  remarkable  one, 
were  it  only  for  the  new-fangled  vocabulary  I  was  constantly 
hearing.  Every  sentence  contained  some  new  word  or  phrase, 
coined  extempore,  and  accentuated  by  a  rope's  end,  or  un- 
gentle back-hander,  with  gutter  adjectives  and  explosive 
epithets.  Every  order  appeared  to  require  the  force  of  a 
gathered  passion,  as  though  obedience  was  impossible  with- 
out it. 

From  this  date  began,  I  think,  the  noting  of  a  strange  coinci- 
dence, which  has  since  been  so  common  with  me  that  I  accept 
it  as  a  rule.  When  I  pray  for  a  man,  it  happens  that  at  that 
moment  he  is  cursing  me ;  when  I  praise,  I  am  slandered :  if  I 
command,  I  am  reviled ;  if  I  feel  affectionate  or  sympathetic 
towards  one,  it  is  my  fate  to  be  detested  or  scorned  by  him.  I 
first  noticed  this  curious  coincidence  on  board  the  'Winder- 
mere.' I  bore  no  grudge,  and  thought  no  evil  of  any  person, 
but  prayed  for  all,  morning  and  evening,  extolled  the  cour- 
age, strength,  and  energy  of  my  ship-mates,  likened  them  to 
sea-lions,  and  felt  it  an  honour  to  be  in  the  company  of  such 
brave  men ;  but,  invariably,  they  damned  my  eyes,  my  face,  my 
heart,  my  soul,  my  person,  my  nationality ;  I  was  damned  aft, 
and  damned  forward.  I  was  wholly  obnoxious  to  everyone 
aboard,  and  the  only  service  they  asked  of  God  towards  me 
was  that  He  should  damn  me  to  all  eternity.  It  was  a  new  idea 
that  came  across  my  mind.  My  memory  clung  to  it  as  a  nov- 
elty, and  at  every  instance  of  the  coincidence  I  became  more 
and  more  confirmed  that  it  was  a  rule,  as  applied  to  me ;  but, 
until  it  was  established,  I  continued  to  bless  those  who  perse- 
cuted me  with  their  hideous  curses.  I  am  glad  to  think  that 
I  was  sustained  by  a  belief  that  I  was  doing  right ;  for,  without 
it,  I  should  have  given  scope  to  a  ferocious  and  blasphemous 
resentment.  It  cheered  me  with  a  hope  that,  by  and  by,  their 
curses  would  be  blessings;  and,  in  the  meantime,  my  mind 
was  becoming  as  impervious  to  such  troubles  as  a  swan's  back 
to  a  shower  of  rain. 

Harry,  on  the  contrary,  made  a  distinction.  He  allowed 
no  one  to  curse  him,  except  the  officers.  When  a  sailor  ventured 


AT  SEA  79 

to  swear  at  him,  he  returned  the  swearing  with  interest,  and 
clenched  his  fist  ready  for  the  violent  sequel.  He  had  long 
ago  overcome  the  young  boy's  squeamishness  at  an  oath.  If 
anything,  he  was  rather  prone  to  take  the  boy's  advantage 
over  a  man,  and  dare  him  to  prove  himself  a  coward  by  strik- 
ing one  younger  and  weaker.  It  is  a  cunning  method  of  fence, 
which  I  have  since  found  is  frequently  practised  by  those  who, 
cannot,  without  loss  of  manliness,  resort  to  screaming.  When 
I  confided  to  him  that  the  crew  of  the  '  Windermere'  were  a 
very  wicked  set,  he  said  the  'Windermere'  was  Heaven  com- 
pared to  a  Black-Ball  packet-ship.  I  believe  that  he  would 
have  liked  to  see  more  belaying-pins  and  marline-spikes 
thrown  at  the  men  by  the  mates,  more  knuckle-dusting,  and 
sling-shot  violence.  According  to  him,  brutal  sailors  should 
be  commanded  by  brutal  mates.  'Lime-juicers'  were  too  soft 
altogether  for  his  kidney. 

From  the  day  we  reached  the  region  of  the  Trades,  we 
enjoyed  blue  skies  and  dry  decks,  speeding  along  under  square 
yards,  with  studding-sails  below  and  aloft.  Our  work,  how- 
ever, was  not  a  whit  easier.  The  mates  hated  to  see  idleness, 
and  found  endless  jobs  of  scrubbing  paint-work,  brass-clean- 
ing, painting,  oiling,  slushing,  and  tarring,  not  to  mention 
sennet-making,  and  serving  shrouds  and  stays.  Sundays, 
however,  —  weather  permitting,  —  were  restful.  The  sailors 
occupied  themselves  with  overhauling  their  kits,  shaving, 
hair-cutting,  and  clothes-mending.  In  the  afternoon,  after 
gorging  themselves  on  duff,  they  were  more  given  to  smoke, 
and  to  spinning  such  sanguinary  yarns  of  sea-life  that  I  won- 
dered they  could  find  pleasure  in  following  such  a  gory  pro- 
fession. When  sea  and  sky  were  equally  sympathetic,  and 
Waters  and  Nelson  gave  a  rest  to  their  vocal  machines,  there 
might  have  been  worse  places  than  the  deck  of  the  '  Winder- 
mere' on  a  Sunday ;  and,  to  us  boys,  the  Sunday  feed  of  plum- 
duff,  with  its  'Nantucket  raisins,'  soft-tack,  and  molasses, 
or  gingerbread,  contributed  to  render  it  delightful. 

We  were  on  the  verge  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  when  one 
night,  just  after  eight  bells  were  struck,  and  the  watch  was 
turning  out,  Waters,  who  was  ever  on  the  alert  for  a  drop  on 
someone,  hurled  an  iron  belaying-pin  at  a  group  of  sailors  on 
the  main  deck,  and  felled  a  Norwegian  senseless.    Then,  as 


80  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

though  excited  at  the  effect,  he  bounded  over  the  poop-railing 
to  the  main  deck,  amongst  the  half-sleepy  men,  and  struck 
right  and  left  with  a  hand-spike,  and  created  such  a  panic 
that  old  salts  and  joskins  began  to  leap  over  each  other  in  their 
wild  hurry  to  escape  from  the  demon.  Four  men  lay  on  the 
deck  still  as  death  for  a  while,  but,  fortunately,  they  recovered 
in  a  short  time,  though  the  Norwegian  was  disabled  for  a 
week. 

The  next  day,  Nelson  tried  to  distinguish  himself.  While 
washing  decks,  he  caught  the  youngest  Paddy  fairly,  and 
availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  to  avenge  former  failures 
so  effectually  that  the  boy  had  not  a  joke  left  in  him.  His 
fellow-stowaway  was  next  made  to  regret  ever  having  chosen 
the  'Windermere'  to  escape  from  the  miseries  inseparable 
from  Liverpool  poverty.  Before  many  minutes  Nelson  was 
dancing  about  me,  and  wounding  me  in  many  a  vulnerable 
point;  and  then,  aspiring  for  bigger  game,  he  affected  to  feel 
outraged  at  the  conduct  of  the  man  at  the  wheel,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  relieve  himself  by  clouting  and  kicking  the  poor 
fellow,  until  the  bright  day  must  have  appeared  like  a  starry 
sky  to  him. 

Labouring  under  the  notion  that  Liverpool  sailors  needed 
the  most  ferocious  discipline,  our  two  mates  seldom  omitted 
a  chance  to  prove  to  them  that  they  were  resolved  to  follow 
every  detail  of  the  code,  and  to  promote  their  efficiency ;  but, 
when  about  four  days  from  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi,  they 
suddenly  abstained  from  physical  violence,  and  except  by 
intermittent  fits  of  mild  swearing,  and  mordant  sarcasm,  they 
discontinued  all  efforts  at  the  improvement  of  the  men.  The 
day  before  we  arrived  at  the  Balize,  the  mates  astonished 
me  by  their  extravagant  praise  of  those  they  had  so  cruelly 
mauled  and  beaten.  They  called  them  'Jolly  Tars,'  'Yankee 
Boys'  (a  very  high  compliment),  'Ocean  heroes,'  etc.,  etc. 
Bully  Waters  exhibited  his  brilliantly  white  teeth  in  broad 
smiles,  and  Nelson  gushed,  and  was  jovially  ebullient.  I 
heard  one  sailor  remark  upon  this  sudden  change  of  demean- 
our in  them,- that  the  mates  knew  when  to  "bout  face'  and 
sing  a  new  tune ;  and  that  old  hands  could  tell  how  near  they 
were  to  the  levee  by  the  way  Yankee  mates  behaved,  and 
that  there  was  no  place  so  unwholesome  for  bullies  as  the 


AT  SEA  8 1 

New  Orleans  levee.  Another  sailor  was  of  the  opinion  that  the 
mates  were  more  afraid  of  being  hauled  up  before  the  court ; 
he  had  often  seen  their  like,  —  'hellians  at  sea,  and  sweet  as 
molasses  near  port.' 

On  the  fifty-second  day  from  Liverpool,  the  'Windermere' 
anchored  off  one  of  the  four  mouths  of  the  Mississippi  River, 
in  twenty-seven  feet  of  water.  The  shore  is  called  the  Balize. 
Early  next  morning  a  small  tug  took  our  ship,  and  another 
of  similar  size,  in  tow,  and  proceeded  up  the  river  with  us. 
We  were  kept  very  busy  preparing  the  vessel  for  port,  but 
I  had  abundant  opportunities  to  note  the  strange  shores, 
and  the  appearance  of  the  greatest  of  American  rivers.  After 
several  hours'  steaming,  we  passed  'English  turn,'  which 
Harry  described  as  the  place  where  the  English  were  'licked' 
by  the  Americans  on  the  8th  of  January,  1815  —  a  story  that 
was  then  incredible  to  me.  After  an  ascent  of  about  one  hun- 
dred miles  up  the  river,  we  came  in  view  of  the  chief  port  of 
the  Mississippi  Valley,  and,  in  due  time,  our  vessel  became 
one  of  three  lying  at  a  pier-head,  pointing  up  among  a  seem- 
ingly countless  number  of  ships  and  river-steamers,  ranged 
below  and  above  our  berth.  The  boarding-house  touts  poured 
aboard  and  took  possession  of  the  sailors ;  and,  before  many 
minutes,  Harry  and  I  alone  remained  of  the  crew  that  had 
brought  the  big  'Windermere'  across  the  sea  to  New  Orleans. 

Though  about  thirty-five  years  have  elapsed  since  I  first 
stood  upon  the  levee  of  the  Crescent  City,  scarcely  one  of  all 
my  tumultuous  sensations  of  pleasure,  wonder,  and  curiosity, 
has  been  forgotten  by  me.  The  levee  sloped  down  with  a  noble 
breadth  to  the  river,  and  stretched  for  miles  up  and  down  in 
front  of  the  city,  and  was  crowded  with  the  cargoes  of  the 
hundreds  of  vessels  which  lay  broadside  to  it.  In  some  places 
the  freights  lay  in  mountainous  heaps,  but  the  barrels,  and 
hogsheads,  and  cotton  bales,  covered  immense  spaces,  though 
arranged  in  precise  order;  and,  with  the  multitudes  of  men, 
—  white,  red,  black,  yellow,  —  horses,  mules,  and  drays  and 
wagons,  the  effect  of  such  a  scene,  with  its  fierce  activity  and 
new  atmosphere,  upon  a  raw  boy  from  St.  Asaph,  may  be 
better  imagined  than  described. 

During  my  fifty-two  days  of  ship-life  there  had  filtered 


82  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

into  my  mind  curious  ideas  respecting  the  new  land  of  America 
and  the  character  of  the  people.  In  a  large  measure  they  were 
more  complimentary  than  otherwise;  but  the  levee  of  New 
Orleans  carried  with  its  name  a  reputation  for  sling-shots, 
doctored  liquor,  Shanghai-ing,  and  wharf-ratting,  which  made 
it  a  dubious  place  for  me.  When  Harry  directed  my  attention 
to  the  numerous  liquor  saloons  fronting  the  river-side,  all 
the  scandalous  stories  I  had  heard  of  knifing,  fighting,  and 
manslaughter,  recurred  at  once  to  my  mind,  and  made  me 
very  shy  of  these  haunts  of  villainy  and  devilry.  As  he  could 
not  forego  the  pleasure  of  introducing  me  to  a  city  which  he 
had  constantly  praised,  he  insisted  that  I  should  accompany 
him  for  a  walk  that  first  night  up  Tchapitoulas  Street,  and  to 
some  'diggins'  where  he  had  acquaintances.  I  accepted  his 
invitation  without  any  misgiving,  or  any  other  thought  than 
of  satisfying  a  natural  curiosity. 

I  think  it  is  one  of  the  most  vivid  recollections  I  possess. 
The  details  of  my  first  impressions,  and  an  analysis  of  my 
thoughts,  would  fill  many  pages.  Of  the  thousands  of  British 
boys  who  have  landed  in  this  city,  I  fancy  none  was  so  utterly 
unsophisticated  as  myself  —  for  reasons  which  have  already 
been  related. 

Directly  the  sun  was  set  we  were  relieved  from  duty,  and 
were  allowed  liberty  to  go  ashore.  We  flew  over  the  planking 
laid  across  the  ships,  light  as  young  fawns;  and,  when  I  felt 
the  shore  under  my  feet,  I  had  to  relieve  myself  by  an  ecstatic 
whirl  or  two  about  Harry,  crying  out,  'At  last !  At  last !  New 
Orleans !  It  is  too  good  to  be  true !'  I  was  nearly  overwhelmed 
with  blissful  feeling  that  rises  from  emancipation.  I  was  free ! 
—  and  I  was  happy,  yes,  actually  happy,  for  I  was  free  —  at 
last  the  boy  was  free ! 

We  raced  across  the  levee,  for  joy  begets  activity,  and  activ- 
ity is  infectious.  What  was  a  vivid  joy  to  me,  was  the  delight 
of  gratified  pride  to  Harry.  'I  told  you,'  he  said,  beaming, 
'what  New  Orleans  was.  Is  it  not  grand?'  But  'grand'  did 
not  convey  its  character,  as  it  appeared  to  my  fresh  young 
eyes.  Some  other  word  was  wanted  to  express  the  whole  of 
what  I  felt.  The  soft,  balmy  air,  with  its  strange  scents  of 
fermenting  molasses,  semi-baked  sugar,  green  coffee,  pitch, 
Stockholm  tar,  brine  of  mess-beef,  rum,  and  whiskey  drip- 


AT  SEA  83 

pings,  contributed  a  great  deal  towards  imparting  the  charm 
of  romance  to  everything  I  saw.  The  people  I  passed  ap- 
peared to  me  to  be  nobler  than  any  I  had  seen.  They  had  a 
swing  of  the  body  wholly  un-English,  and  their  facial  expres- 
sions differed  from  those  I  had  been  accustomed  to.  I  strove 
hard  to  give  a  name  to  what  was  so  unusual.  Now,  of  course, 
I  know  that  it  was  the  sense  of  equality  and  independence  that 
made  each  face  so  different  from  what  I  had  seen  in  Liverpool. 
These  people  knew  no  master,  and  had  no  more  awe  of  their 
employers  than  they  had  of  their  fellow-employees. 

We  reached  the  top  of  Tchapitoulas  Street,  the  main  com- 
mercial artery  of  the  city.  The  people  were  thronging  home 
from  the  business  quarters,  to  the  more  residential  part.  They 
passed  by  in  many  hundreds,  with  their  lunch-buckets,  and, 
though  soiled  by  their  labours,  they  were  not  wearied  or  de- 
pressed. In  the  vicinity  of  Poydras  Street,  we  halted  before 
a  boarding-house,  where  Harry  was  welcomed  with  the 
warmth  which  is  the  due  of  the  returned  voyager.  He  ordered 
dinner,  and,  with  appetites  sharpened  by  youth  and  ocean 
airs,  we  sat  down  to  a  spread  of  viands  which  were  as  excel- 
lent as  they  were  novel.  Okra  soup,  grits,  sweet  potatoes, 
brinjalls,  corn  scones,  mush-pudding,  and  'fixings' — every 
article  but  the  bread  was  strange  and  toothsome.  Harry 
appropriated  my  praise  of  the  meal  to  himself,  paid  for  it  with 
the  air  of  one  whose  purse  was  deep  beyond  soundings,  and 
then  invested  a  silver  piece  in  cigars;  for  American  boys 
always  smoked  cigars,  and,  when  in  New  Orleans,  English 
boys  loved  to  imitate  them. 

Now,  when  I  stepped  on  the  levee,  frisky  as  a  lamb,  I  was 
about  as  good  as  a  religious  observance  of  the  Commandments 
can  make  one.  To  me  those  were  the  principal  boundary- 
stones  that  separated  the  region  of  right  from  that  of  wrong. 
Between  the  greater  landmarks,  there  were  many  well-known 
minor  indexes ;  but  there  were  some  which  were  almost  un- 
discoverable  to  one  so  young  and  untravelled  as  I  was.  Only 
the  angelically-immaculate  could  tread  along  the  limits  of 
right  and  wrong  without  a  misstep. 

After  dinner  we  sauntered  through  a  few  streets,  in  a  state 
of  sweet  content,  and,  by  and  by,  entered  another  house,  the 
proprietress  of  which  was  extremely  gracious.    Harry  whis- 


84  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

pered  something  to  her,  and  we  were  shown  to  a  room  called 
a  parlour.  Presently,  there  bounced  in  four  gay  young  ladies, 
in  such  scant  clothing  that  I  was  speechless  with  amazement. 
My  ignorance  of  their  profession  was  profound,  and  I  was 
willing  enough  to  be  enlightened ;  but,  when  they  proceeded 
to  take  liberties  with  my  person,  they  seemed  to  me  to  be 
so  appallingly  wicked  that  I  shook  them  off  and  fled  out  of 
the  house.  Harry  followed  me,  and,  with  all  the  arts  he  could 
use,  tried  to  induce  me  to  return ;  but  I  would  as  soon  have 
jumped  into  the  gruel-coloured  Mississippi  as  have  looked 
into  the  eyes  of  those  giggling  wantons  again.  My  disgust 
was  so  great  that  I  never,  in  after  years,  could  overcome  my 
repugnance  to  females  of  that  character. 

Then  Harry  persuaded  me  to  enter  a  bar-room,  and  called 
for  liquor,  but  here,  again,  I  was  obstinate.  '  Drink  yourself, 
if  you  like,'  said  I,  'but  I  belong  to  the  Band  of  Hope  and 
have  signed  the  pledge,  so  I  must  not.' 

'Well  smoke  then,  do  something  like  other  fellows,'  he  said, 
offering  me  my  choice. 

As  I  had  never  heard  that  smoking  was  a  moral  offence,  and 
had  a  desire  to  appear  manly,  I  weakly  yielded,  and,  putting 
a  great  cigar  between  my  lips,  puffed  proudly  and  with  vigour. 
But  alas !  my  punishment  was  swift.  My  head  seemed  to 
swim,  and  my  limbs  were  seized  with  a  trembling;  and,  while 
vainly  trying  to  control  myself,  a  surge  of  nausea  quite  over- 
powered me,  and  I  tried  to  steal  back  to  the  ship,  as  abjectly 
contrite  as  ever  repentant  wretch  could  well  be.  Thus  ended 
my  first  night  at  New  Orleans. 

Harry's  story  of  the  two  English  boys,  who  had  been  com- 
pelled to  abscond  from  the  'Windermere'  the  voyage  before, 
recurred  to  me  more  than  once  after  Nelson's  greeting  next 
morning.  '  Hello !  you  here  still !  I  thought  you  had  vamoosed 
like  the  Irish  stowaways.  Not  enough  physic,  eh?  Well, 
sonny,  we  must  see  what  we  can  do  for  you.' 

I  was  put  to  cleaning  brass-work  —  a  mechanical  occupa- 
tion that  breeds  thought.  If,  attracted  by  a  lively  levee 
scene,  I  lifted  my  eyes,  one  or  other  of  the  mates  bawled  out, 
'  Now,  you  scalawag,  or,  you  little  sweep,  what  in  —  are  you 
doing?  Get  on  with  that  work,  you  putty-faced  son  of  a  — !' 
and    so  on !    Ever   some  roaring   blasphemy,  some  hideous 


AT  SEA  85 

epithet,  with  a  kick  or  a  clout,  until,  on  the  fifth  day,  convic- 
tion stole  upon  every  sense  that  it  was  to  a  set  purpose ;  and 
my  small  remnant  of  self-respect  kindled  into  a  revolt.  I 
understand  now  that  it  was  the  pitiful  sum  of  money  due  to 
me  they  wished  to  save  for  the  ship-owners  or  captain,  that 
prevented  them  from  saying  right  out,  'You  may  go,  and  be 
—  to  you.'  Such  a  dismissal  entailed  a  settlement.  Just  as 
Moses  Owen  lacked  the  moral  courage  to  despatch  me  from 
his  presence,  these  men  were  at  the  same  game  of  nagging ; 
and  it  succeeded  in  inspiring  indifference  as  to  what  would 
become  of  me.  I  could  say,  at  last,  'Better  to  rot  on  this 
foreign  strand  than  endure  this  slave's  life  longer.' 

That  evening  I  declined  to  go  ashore  with  Harry,  and  sat 
pondering  in  the  loneliness  of  my  cabin,  and  prayer,  some- 
what fallen  into  disuse  of  late,  was  remembered ;  and  I  rose 
from  my  knees  primed  for  the  venture.  Habit  of  association, 
as  usual  with  me,  had  knit  some  bonds  of  attachment  between 
me  and  the  ship.  She  connected  me  with  England ;  by  her  I 
came,  and  by  her  I  could  return.  Now  that  was  impossible; 
I  must  follow  the  stowaways,  and  leave  the  floating  hell  for 
ever. 

I  lit  the  swinging  pewter  lamp,  emptied  my  sea-bag  on  the 
floor,  and  out  of  its  contents  picked  my  best  shore  clothes, 
and  the  bishop's  Bible.  I  dressed  myself  with  care,  and,  blow- 
ing out  the  lamp,  lay  down.  By  and  by,  Harry  reeled  in,  half- 
stupefied  with  his  excesses,  rolled  into  his  bunk  above  me; 
and,  when  he  was  unconscious,  I  rose  and  glided  out.  Five 
minutes  later,  I  was  hurrying  rapidly  along  the  river-side  of 
the  levee ;  and,  when  about  half  a  mile  from  the  ship,  I  plunged 
into  the  shadows  caused  by  a  pile  of  cotton  bales,  and  lay 
down  to  await  day-break. 


s 


CHAPTER  IV 
AT  WORK 

OON  after  sunrise  I    came  out  of   my  nest,  and  after 
dusting  myself,  strode  towards  Tchapitoulas  Street. 

1  The  world  was  all  before  me  where  to  choose, 
And  Providence  my  guide.' 

The  absolutely  penniless  has  a  choice  of  two  things,  work 
or  starve.  No  boy  of  my  age  and  vitality  could  deliberately 
choose  starvation.  The  other  alternative  remained  to  me,  and 
for  work,  work  of  any  kind,  I  was  most  ready;  with  a  strong 
belief  that  it  was  the  only  way  to  achieve  that  beautiful 
independence  which  sat  so  well  on  those  who  had  succeeded. 
I  was  quite  of  the  opinion  of  my  Aunt  Mary,  that  'rolling 
stones  gathered  no  moss,'  and  I  wanted  permanent  work, 
wherein  I  could  approve  myself  steady,  and  zealously  indus- 
trious. Hitherto,  I  had  been  most  unfortunate  in  the  search. 
Respectful  civility,  prompt  obedience,  and  painstaking  zeal, 
had  been  at  a  discount ;  but,  such  is  the  buoyancy  of  healthy 
youth,  I  still  retained  my  faith  that  decent  employment  was 
within  reach  of  the  diligent,  and  it  was  this  that  I  was  now 
bent  upon. 

Hastening  across  the  levee,  I  entered  the  great  commercial 
street  of  the  city,  at  a  point  not  far  from  St.  Thomas  Street, 
and,  after  a  little  inward  debate,  continued  down  Tchapitou- 
las Street,  along  the  sidewalk,  with  all  my  senses  wide-awake. 
I  read  every  sign  reflectively.  The  store-owners'  names  were 
mostly  foreign,  and  suggestive  of  Teutonic  and  Hibernian 
origin ;  but  the  larger  buildings  were  of  undeniable  Anglo- 
Saxon.  At  the  outset,  lager-beer  saloons  were  frequent ;  then 
followed  more  shanties,  with  rusty  tin  roofs;  but,  beyond 
these,  the  stores  were  more  massive  and  uniform,  and  over 
the  doors  were  the  inscriptions,  'Produce  and  Commission 
Merchants,'  etc. 

As  I  proceeded,  looking  keenly  about  for  the  favourable 


AT  WORK  87 

chance,  the  doors  were  flung  open  one  by  one,  and  I  obtained 
a  view  of  the  interior.  Negroes  commenced  to  sweep  the  long 
alleys  between  the  goods  piles,  and  to  propel  the  dust  and 
rubbish  of  the  previous  day's  traffic  towards  the  open  gutter. 
Then  flour,  whiskey,  and  rum  barrels,  marked  and  branded, 
were  rolled  out,  and  arranged  near  the  kerbstone.  Hogsheads 
and  tierces  were  set  on  end,  cases  were  built  up,  sacks  were 
laid  in  orderly  layers,  awaiting  removal  by  the  drays,  which, 
at  a  later  hour,  would  convey  them  to  the  river-steamers. 

Soon  after  seven,  I  had  arrived  near  the  end  of  the  long 
street;  and  I  could  see  the  colossal  Custom-House,  and  its 
immense  scaffolding.  So  far,  I  had  not  addressed  myself  to 
a  single  soul,  and  I  was  thinking  I  should  have  to  search  in 
another  street;  when,  just  at  this  time,  I  saw  a  gentleman  of 
middle  age  seated  in  front  of  No.  3  store,  reading  a  morning 
newspaper.  From  his  sober  dark  alpaca  suit  and  tall  hat,  I 
took  him  to  be  the  proprietor  of  the  building,  over  the  door 
of  which  was  the  sign,  'Speake  and  McCreary,  Wholesale  and 
Commission  Merchants.'  He  sat  tilted  back  against  what 
appeared  to  be  the  solid  granite  frame  of  the  door,  with  a 
leisured  ease  which  was  a  contrast  to  the  activity  I  had  pre- 
viously noticed.  After  a  second  look  at  the  respectable  figure 
and  genial  face,  I  ventured  to  ask,  — 

'Do  you  want  a  boy,  sir?' 

'Eh?'  he  demanded  with  a  start;  'what  did  you  say?' 

'I  want  some  work,  sir;  I  asked  if  you  wanted  a  boy.' 

'A  boy,'  he  replied  slowly,  and  fixedly  regarding  me.  'No, 
I  do  not  think  I  want  one.  What  should  I  want  a  boy  for? 
Where  do  you  hail  from?   You  are  not  an  American.' 

'I  came  from  Liverpool,  sir,  less  than  a  week  ago,  by  a 
packet-ship.  I  shipped  as  cabin-boy ;  but,  when  we  got  to  sea, 
I  was  sent  forward,  and,  until  last  night,  I  was  abused  the 
whole  voyage.  At  last,  I  became  convinced  that  I  was  not 
wanted,  and  left.  As  you  are  the  first  gentleman  I  have  seen, 
I  thought  I  would  apply  to  you  for  work,  or  ask  you  for  advice 
as  to  how  to  get  it.' 

'So,'  he  ejaculated,  tilting  his  chair  back  again.  'You  are 
friendless  in  a  strange  land,  eh,  and  want  work  to  begin  mak- 
ing your  fortune,  eh?  Well,  what  work  can  you  do?  Can  you 
read?   What  book  is  that  in  your  pocket? ' 


88  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

'It  is  my  Bible,  a  present  from  our  Bishop.  Oh,  yes,  sir,  I 
can  read,'  I  replied  proudly. 

He  held  out  his  hand  and  said,  'Let  me  see  your  Bible.' 

He  opened  it  at  the  fly-leaves,  and  smiled,  as  he  read  the 
inscription,  '  Presented  to  John  Rowlands  by  the  Right  Revd. 
Thomas  Vowler  Short,  D.  D.,  Lord  Bishop  of  St.  Asaph,  for 
diligent  application  to  his  studies,  and  general  good  conduct. 
January  5th,  1855." 

Returning  it  to  me,  he  pointed  to  an  article  in  his  newspaper, 
and  said,  'Read  that.'  It  was  something  about  a  legislative 
assembly,  which  I  delivered,  as  he  said,  '  very  correctly,  but 
with  an  un-American  accent.' 

'Can  you  write  well?'  he  next  asked. 

'Yes,  sir,  a  good  round-hand,  as  I  have  been  told.' 

'Then  let  me  see  you  mark  that  coffee-sack,  with  the  same 
address  you  see  on  the  one  near  it.  There  is  the  marking-pot 
and  brush."  >v 

In  a  few  seconds,  I  had  traced  '  <S>MEMPHIS,  TENN.,' 
and  looked  up. 

'Neatly  done,'  he  said;  'now  proceed  and  mark  the  other 
sacks  in  the  same  way.' 

There  were  about  twenty  of  them,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
they  were  all  addressed. 

'  Excellent ! '  he  cried ; '  even  better  than  I  could  do  it  myself. 
There  is  no  chance  of  my  coffee  getting  lost  this  time  i  Well, 
I  must  see  what  can  be  done  for  you.  Dan,'  he  cried  to  a 
darkie  indoors,  'when  is  Mr.  Speake  likely  to  be  in? ' 

"Bout  nine,  sah,  mebbe  a  leetle  aftah.' 

'Oh,  well,'  said  he,  looking  at  his  watch,  'we  have  ample 
time  before  us.  As  I  don't  suppose  you  have  breakfasted  yet, 
you  had  better  come  along  with  me.   Take  the  paper,  Dan.' 

We  turned  down  the  next  street,  and  as  we  went  along  he 
said  first  impressions  were  very  important  in  this  world,  and 
he  feared  that  if  his  friend  James  Speake  had  seen  cotton 
fluff  and  dust  on  my  jacket,  and  my  uncombed  hair,  he  might 
not  be  tempted  to  look  at  me  twice,  or  care  to  trust  me  among 
his  groceries ;  but,  after  a  breakfast,  a  hair-cut,  and  a  good 
clean-up,  he  thought  I  would  have  a  better  chance  of  being 
employed. 

I  was  taken  to  a  restaurant,  where  I  was  provided  with 


AT  WORK  89 

superb  coffee,  sugared  waffles,  and  doughnuts,  after  which  we 
adjourned  to  a  basement  distinguished  by  a  pole  with  red, 
white,  and  blue  paint. 

Everyone  who  has  been  operated  upon  by  an  American 
barber  will  understand  the  delight  I  felt,  as  I  lay  submissive 
in  the  luxurious  chair,  to  be  beautified  by  a  demi-semi-gentle- 
man,  with  ambrosial  curls !  The  mere  fact  that  such  as  he 
condescended  to  practise  his  art  upon  one  who  but  yesterday 
was  only  thought  worthy  of  a  kick,  gave  an  increased  value 
to  my  person,  and  provoked  my  conceit.  When  my  dark  hair 
had  been  artistically  shortened,  my  head  and  neck  shampooed, 
and  my  face  glowed  with  the  scouring,  I  looked  into  the  mirror 
and  my  vanity  was  prodigious.  A  negro  boy  completed  my 
toilet  with  an  efficient  brushing  and  a  boot-polish,  and  my 
friend  was  pleased  to  say  that  I  looked  first-rate. 

By  the  time  we  returned  to  Speake  and  McCreary's  store, 
Mr.  James  Speake  had  put  in  an  appearance.  After  a  cordial 
greeting,  my  benefactor  led  Mr.  Speake  away  by  the  arm  and 
held  a  few  minutes'  earnest  conversation  with  him.  Presently 
I  was  beckoned  to  advance,  and  Mr.  Speake  said  with  a  smile 
to  me,  — 

'Well,  young  man,  this  gentleman  tells  me  you  want  a 
place.    Is  that  so?' 

'Yes,  sir.' 

'That  is  all  right.  I  am  willing  to  give  you  a  week's  trial 
at  five  dollars,  and  if  we  then  find  we  suit  each  other,  the  place 
will  be  permanent.   Are  you  agreeable?' 

There  could  be  no  doubt  of  that  fact,  and  Mr.  Speake 
turned  round  to  two  young  gentlemen,  one  of  whom  he  called 
Mr.  Kennicy,  and  the  other  Mr.  Richardson,  and  acquainted 
them  with  my  engagement  as  a  help  to  Mr.  Richardson  in  the 
shipping  business.  The  generosity  of  my  unknown  friend  had 
been  so  great  that,  before  addressing  myself  to  any  employ- 
ment, I  endeavoured  to  express  my  gratitude ;  but  my  strong 
emotions  were  not  favourable  to  spontaneous  fluency.  The 
gentleman  seemed  to  divine  what  I  wished  to  say,  and  said,  — 

'There,  that  will  do.  I  know  what  is  in  your  heart.  Shake 
hands.  I  am  going  up-river  with  my  consignments,  but  I 
shall  return  shortly  and  hope  to  hear  the  best  accounts  of  you/ 

For  the  first  half-hour  my  heart  was  too  full,  and  my  eyes 


9o  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

too  much  blurred,  to  be  particularly  bright.  The  gentleman's 
benevolence  had  been  immense,  and  as  yet  I  knew  not  even 
his  name,  his  business,  or  what  connection  he  had  with  the 
store  of  Speake  and  McCreary.  I  was  in  the  midst  of  strangers, 
and,  so  far,  my  experience  of  them  had  not  been  of  that  qual- 
ity to  inspire  confidence.  In  a  short  time,  however,  Mr.  Rich- 
ardson's frankness  and  geniality  made  me  more  cheerful. 
He  appeared  to  take  pride  in  inducting  me  into  my  duties,  and 
I  responded  with  alacrity.  He  had  an  extremely  pleasant 
manner,  the  candour  of  Harry,  without  his  vulgarity.  Before 
an  hour  had  passed,  I  was  looking  up  to  him  as  to  a  big  brother, 
and  was  asking  him  all  sorts  of  questions  respecting  the  gentle- 
man who  had  taken  me  out  of  the  street  and  started  me  so 
pleasantly  in  life. 

From  Mr.  Richardson  I  learned  that  he  was  a  kind  of  broker 
who  dealt  between  planters  up-river  and  merchants  in  New 
Orleans,  and  traded  through  a  brother  wTith  Havana  and 
other  West  Indian  ports.  He  had  a  desk  in  the  store,  which 
he  made  use  of  when  in  town,  and  did  a  good  deal  of  safe 
business  in  produce  both  with  Mr.  Speake  and  other  wholesale 
merchants.  He  travelled  much  up  and  down  the  river,  taking 
large  consignments  with  him  for  back  settlements  up  the 
Arkansas,  Washita,  and  Saline,  and  other  rivers,  and  return- 
ing often  with  cotton  and  other  articles.  His  name  was 
Mr.  Stanley.  His  wife  lived  in  St.  Charles  Street,  in  a  first- 
class  boarding-house,  and,  from  the  style  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Stanley  kept  up,  he  thought  they  must  be  pretty  well  off. 
This  was  the  extent  of  the  information  Mr.  Richardson  could 
give  me,  which  was  most  gratifying,  and  assured  me  that  I  had 
at  least  one  friend  in  the  strange  city. 

There  have  been  several  memorable  occasions  in  my  life ; 
but,  among  them,  this  first  initial  stage  towards  dignity  and 
independence  must  ever  be  prominent.  WTiat  a  proud,  glad 
holiday-spirit  moved  me  then !  I  soon  became  sensible  of  a 
kindling  elation  of  feeling,  for  the  speech  of  all  to  me  was  as 
though  everyone  recognised  that  I  had  entered  into  the  great 
human  fraternity.  The  abruptness  of  the  transition,  from  the 
slave  of  yesterday  into  the  free-man  of  to-day,  endowed  with 
a  sacred  inviolability  of  person,  astonished  me.  Only  a  few 
hours  ago,  I  was  as  one  whose  skull  might  be  smashed  at  the 


AT  WORK  91 

impulse  of  a  moment ;  and  now,  in  an  instant,  as  it  were,  I  was 
free  of  the  severe  thraldom,  and  elevated  to  the  rank  of  man. 
Messrs.  Kennicy  and  Richardson  were  good  types  of  free- 
spoken  young  America.  They  v.* ere  both  touchy  in  the  ex- 
treme, and,  on  points  of  personal  honour,  highly  intolerant. 
America  breeds  such  people  by  thousands,  who  appear  to  live 
eternally  on  the  edge  of  resentment,  and  to  be  as  inflammable 
as  tinder.  It  is  dangerous  to  deal  with  them  in  badinage, 
irony,  sarcasm,  or  what  we  call  'chaff.'  Before  the  expiration 
of  the  first  day,  I  had  noted  that  their  high  spirits  scarcely 
brooked  a  reproof,  or  contradiction,  the  slightest  approach  to 
anything  of  the  kind  exciting  them  to  a  strange  heat.  When 
I  saw  that  they  became  undisguisedly  angry  because  Mr. 
Speake  happened  to  ask  them  why  some  order  for  goods  had 
not  been  completed,  I  really  could  not  help  feeling  a  little 
contempt  for  them.  Otherwise,  they  were  both  estimable 
young  men,  clean  as  new  pins,  exquisitely  dressed,  and  emi- 
nently cordial  —  especially  Richardson,  whom  I  warmly 
admired. 

My  first  day's  employment  consisted  in  assisting  Dan  and 
Samuel,  the  two  negroes,  in  taking  groceries  on  trucks  from 
the  depths  of  the  long  store  to  the  sidewalk,  or  rolling  liquor 
or  flour-barrels  on  the  edges  of  thin  boards,  —  an  art  I  ac- 
quired very  soon,  —  and  in  marking  sundry  lots  for  shipment 
to  Mississippi  ports  with  strange  names,  such  as  Bayou 
Placquemine,  Attakapas,  Opelousas,  etc.,  etc.  Richardson 
was,  in  the  meantime,  busy  in  making  out  bills  of  lading,  and 
arranging  with  the  pursers  of  the  steamers  for  their  trans- 
portation. The  drays  clattered  to  the  door,  and  removed  the 
goods  as  fast  as  we  could  get  them  ready.  Every  moment  of 
the  day  added  to  my  rapture.  The  three  lofts  above  the 
ground-floor  contained  piles  upon  piles  of  articles  such  as 
could  be  comprised  under  the  term  groceries,  besides  rare 
wines  and  brandies,  liqueurs  and  syrups.  The  ground-floor 
was  piled  up  to  the  ceiling  almost  with  sacks  of  coffee-berries, 
grains,  and  cases  of  miscellanea,  barrels  of  flour,  tierces  of 
bacon,  hams,  etc.,  etc.  It  was  informing  even  to  read  the 
titles  on  the  neatly-branded  cases,  which  contained  bottled 
fruit,  tinned  jams,  berries  of  all  kinds,  scented  soaps,  candles, 
vermicelli,  macaroni,  and   other   strange   things.    If   I   but 


92  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

stepped  on  the  sidewalk,  I  saw  something  new  and  unheard- 
of  before.  The  endless  drays  thundering  by  the  door,  and  the 
multitudes  of  human  beings,  not  one  of  whom  was  like  the 
other  in  head-gear  or  dress,  had  a  fascination  for  me;  and, 
with  every  sound  and  sight,  I  was  learning  something  new. 

While  influenced  by  all  these  things,  I  sprang  upon  work  of 
any  kind  with  an  avid  desire  to  have  it  completed ;  but  the 
negroes  did  their  utmost  to  suppress  my  boisterous  exuberance 
of  spirit  by  saying,  'Take  it  easy,  little  boss,  don't  kill  your- 
self. Plenty  of  time.  Leave  something  for  to-morrow.'  Had 
the  mates  of  the  'Windermere'  but  looked  in  upon  us,  they 
might  have  learned  that  a  happy  crew  had  more  work  in  them, 
than  when  driven  by  belaying-pins  and  rope's  ends. 

Towards  evening  we  swept  up ;  and,  when  we  had  tidied 
the  store,  it  came  to  my  mind  that  I  knew  no  lodging-house. 
In  consulting  with  Dan,  he  said  he  knew  a  Mrs.  Williams, 
who  kept  a  nice,  cheap  boarding-house  on  St.  Thomas  Street, 
where  I  could  be  most  comfortable.  It  was  arranged  that  he 
should  introduce  me,  and  I  walked  up  Tchapitoulas  Street, 
with  the  two  slaves,  whose  tin  lunch-buckets  swung  heavily, 
I  thought,  as  they  moved  homeward. 

Mrs.  Williams,  a  young  and  black  beauty,  with  intelligent 
features,  was  most  affable,  and  agreed  to  board  me  at  a  rate 
which  would  leave  me  a  respectable  margin  at  the  end  of  the 
week,  and  to  give  me  a  large  attic  room  for  myself.  Her  house 
was  of  wood,  with  a  garden  in  front,  and  a  spacious  tree- 
shaded  yard  at  the  rear.  The  maternal  solicitude  she  showed 
in  providing  for  my  comfort  greatly  charmed  me,  though  I  was 
forced  to  smile  at  her  peculiar  English  and  drawling  accent. 
But  when,  just  as  I  was  about  to  retire  to  my  bedroom,  she,  in 
the  most  matter-of-fact  way,  assisted  me  to  undress,  and  took 
possession  of  my  shirt  and  collar,  saying  they  would  be  washed 
and  ironed  by  morning,  that  I  might  look  more  'spruce,'  my 
estimation  of  her  rose  very  high  indeed,  and  affected  me  to 
such  a  degree  that  I  revolved  all  the  kindnesses  I  had  experi- 
enced during  the  day,  and  was  reminded  to  give  thanks  to 
Him,  Who,  'like  as  a  father,  pitieth  his  children  and  them 
that  fear  Him.' 

The  next  morning,  by  half-past  six,  I  was  at  the  door  of 
Speake  and  McCreary's  store,  fit  for  any  amount  of  work,  and 


AT  WORK  93 

glorying  in  my  condition.  By  eight  o'clock  the  store,  which 
was  about  one  hundred  feet  long,  was  sweet  and  clean,  the 
sidewalk  was  swept,  and  the  earlier  instalments  of  goods  duly 
arranged  on  it  for  shipment.  Then  the  book-keeper  and  ship- 
ping-clerk entered,  fresh  and  scented  as  for  courtship,  took 
off  their  street  coats,  and  donning  their  linen  'dusters,' 
resumed  business.  About  nine,  Mr.  James  Speake  —  Mc- 
Creary  was  dead  —  appeared  with  the  mien  of  gracious  mas- 
terhood,  which  to  me  was  a  sign  of  goodness,  and  stimulative 
of  noble  efforts  in  his  service.1 

My  activity  and  fresh  memory  were  soon  appreciated.  Half- 
a-dozen  times  a  day  my  ready  answers  saved  time.  My  hear- 
ing seemed  to  them  to  be  phenomenal ;  and  my  accuracy  in 
remembering  the  numbers  of  kegs,  cases,  and  sacks  remain- 
ing in  store,  caused  me,  before  the  end  of  the  week,  to  be 
regarded  as  a  kind  of  walking  inventory.  I  could  tell  where 
each  article  was  located,  and  the  contents  of  the  various  lofts 
had  also  been  committed  to  my  memory.  Unlike  the  young 
gentlemen,  I  never  argued,  or  contradicted,  or  took  advantage 
of  a  pettish  ebullition  to  aggravate  temper;  and,  what  was  a 
great  relief  to  persons  with  responsibilities  in  a  warm  climate, 
I  was  always  at  hand,  near  the  glass-door  of  the  office,  await- 
ing orders.  Previous  to  my  arrival,  Dan  and  Samuel  had 
always  found  something  to  do  at  a  distance,  either  upstairs 
or  in  the  back-yard ;  they  pretended  not  to  hear ;  and  it  had 
been  a  fatiguing  task  to  call  them,  and  trying  to  the  patience 
to  wait  for  them ;  but  now  I  was  within  easy  hail,  and  my 
promptitude  was  commended.  Thereupon  my  week's  trial 
ended  satisfactorily,  even  more  so  than  I  had  anticipated,  for 
I  was  permanently  engaged  at  twenty-five  dollars  a  month. 
Such  a  sum  left  me  with  fifteen  dollars  a  month,  net,  after 
payment  of  board  and  lodging,  and  was  quite  a  fortune  in 

1  Early  in  189 1, 1  visited  New  Orleans,  with  my  husband.  He  tried  to  find  the  houses 
and  places  he  had  known  as  a  boy.  The  following  remarks  are  from  his  note-book :  — 

'We  walked  up  Canal  Street,  and  took  the  cars  at  Tchapitoulas  Street,  as  far  as  An- 
nunciation Street.  Looked  at  No.  1659,  which  resembles  the  house  I  sought ;  continued 
down  to  Xo.  1323  —  above  Thalis  Street;  this  also  resembled  the  house,  but  it  is  now 
occupied  by  two  families;  in  former  days,  the  house  had  but  one  occupant.  I  seemed 
to  recognize  it  by  its  attics.  The  houses  no  doubt  have  been  re-numbered.  We  then 
returned  to  Tchapitoulas  Street,  and  thence  into  St.  Peter's  Street,  which  formerly  was, 
I  think,  Commerce  Street.  Speake's  house  was  between  Common  and  Canal  Street  — 
No.  3.  Here,  also,  there  has  been  a  change;  No.  3  is  now  No.  5.  The  numbers  of  the 
next  houses  are  now  in  the  hundreds.' 


94  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

my  eyes.  Mr.  Speake,  moreover,  advanced  a  month's  pay, 
that  I  might  procure  an  outfit.  Mr.  Richardson,  who  boarded 
in  the  more  fashionable  Rampart  Street,  undertook  to  assist 
in  my  purchases,  and  presented  me  with  a  grand,  brass-bound 
trunk  of  his  own,  which,  besides  having  a  tray  for  shirts,  and 
a  partition  for  neck- ties  and  collars,  was  adorned  on  the  lid 
with  the  picture  of  a  lovely  maiden.  Truly,  a  boy  is  easily 
pleased !  I  had  more  joy  in  contemplating  that  first  trunk  of 
mine,  and  imprisoning  my  treasures  under  lock  and  key,  than 
I  have  had  in  any  property  since ! 

My  rating  was  now  a  junior  clerk.  Our  next-door  neigh- 
bours, Messrs.  Hall  and  Kemp,  employed  two  junior  clerks, 
whose  pay  was  four  hundred  dollars  a  year.  They  were  happy, 
careless  lads,  who  dressed  well,  and  whose  hardest  toil  was  with 
the  marking-pot.  I  was  now  as  presentable  as  they,  but  I 
own  to  be  proud  that  I  had  no  fear  of  soiling  my  hands  or 
clothes  with  work,  and  I  never  allowed  a  leaky  sack  of  coffee, 
or  barrel  of  flour,  to  leave  our  store  for  want  of  a  little  sewing 
or  coopering  —  tasks  which  they  felt  it  to  be  beneath  them 
to  do! 

Long  before  the  '  Windermere '  had  sailed  back  for  Liver- 
pool with  her  cotton  cargo,  a  great  change  had  come  over  me. 
Up  to  my  arrival  in  New  Orleans,  no  indulgence  had  been 
shown  me.  I  was  scarcely  an  hour  away  from  the  supervision 
of  someone.  From  my  nurse's  maternal  care,  I  had  passed 
under  the  strict  regime  of  the  Orphan's  Academy — the  Work- 
house; thence  I  had  been  transferred  to  the  no-less-strict 
guardianship  of  Aunt  Mary,  and  the  severe  Moses,  thence  into 
that  of  Uncle  Tom ;  and,  afterwards,  had  tasted  of  the  terrible 
discipline  of  an  American  packet-ship.  Draconian  rules  had 
been  prescribed ;  the  birch  hung  ever  in  view  in  one  place, 
censure  and  menace  at  another.  At  Uncle  Tom's  there  was 
no  alternative  but  obedience  or  the  street;  and  the  packet- 
ship  was  furnished  with  rope's  ends  and  belaying-pins.  But, 
within  a  few  weeks  of  arriving  in  America,  I  had  become 
different  in  temper  and  spirit.  That  which  was  natural  in  me, 
though  so  long  repressed,  had  sprung  out  very  quickly  under 
the  peculiar  influence  of  my  surroundings.  The  childish  fear 
of  authority  had  fled  —  for  authority  no  longer  wore  its  stern, 
relentless  aspect,  but  was  sweetly  reasonable.    Those  who 


AT  WORK  95 

exercised  it  were  gentle  and  sociable,  and  I  repaid  them  with 
respect  and  gratitude.  To  them  I  owed  my  happiness;  and 
my  new  feeling  of  dignity  made  me  stretch  myself  to  my  full 
height,  and  revel  luxuriously  in  fond  ideas.  I  possessed  pro- 
perties in  my  person  which  I  instinctively  valued,  and  felt 
bound  to  cultivate.  The  two-feet  square  of  the  street  I  oc- 
cupied were  mine  for  the  time  being,  and  no  living  man  could 
budge  me  except  at  his  peril.  The  view  of  the  sky  was  as  freely 
mine  as  another's.  These  American  rights  did  not  depend 
on  depth  of  pocket,  or  stature  of  a  man,  but  every  baby  had 
as  much  claim  to  them  as  the  proudest  merchant.  Neither 
poverty  nor  youth  was  degrading,  nor  was  it  liable  to  abuse 
from  wealth  or  age.  Besides  my  youth,  activity,  and  intelli- 
gence, of  which  I  had  been  taught  the  value,  I  had  become 
conscious  of  the  fact  that  I  possessed  privileges  of  free  speech, 
free  opinions,  immunity  from  insult,  oppression,  and  the  con- 
tempt of  class;  and  that,  throughout  America,  my  treatment 
from  men  would  solely  depend  upon  my  individual  character, 
without  regard  of  family  or  pedigree.  These  were  proud 
thoughts.  I  respired  more  freely,  my  shoulders  rose  con- 
siderably, my  back  straightened,  my  strides  became  longer, 
as  my  mind  comprehended  this  new  feeling  of  independence. 
To  the  extent  of  so  much  I  could  not  be  indebted  to  any  man 
living ;  but  for  the  respectability  of  the  covering  and  comfort 
of  the  body,  and  the  extension  of  my  rights  to  more  ground 
than  I  could  occupy  standing,  I  must  work. 

Inspired  of  these  thoughts,  I  was  becoming  as  un-English  in 
disposition  as  though  I  had  been  forty  years  in  the  land,  and, 
as  old  Sir  Thomas  Browne  puts  it,  '  of  a  constitution  so  gen- 
eral that  it  consorted  and  sympathised'  with  things  American. 
My  British  antipathies  and  proclivities  were  dropping  from 
me  as  rapidly  as  the  littlenesses  of  my  servile  life  were  re- 
placed by  the  felicities  of  freedom.  I  shared  in  the  citizens' 
pride  in  their  splendid  port,  the  length  and  stability  of  their 
levee,  their  unparalleled  lines  of  shipping,  their  magnificent 
array  of  steamers,  and  their  majestic  river.  I  believed,  with 
them,  that  their  Custom-House,  when  completed,  would  be  a 
matchless  edifice,  that  Canal  Street  was  unequalled  for  its 
breadth,  that  Tchapitoulas  Street  was,  beyond  compare,  the 
busiest  street  in  the  world,  that  no  markets  equalled  those  of 


96  HENRY   M.  STANLEY 

New  Orleans  for  their  variety  of  produce,  and  that  no  city, 
not  even  Liverpool,  could  exhibit  such  mercantile  enterprise, 
or  such  a  smart  go-ahead  spirit,  as  old  and  young  manifested  in 
the  chief  city  of  the  South.  I  am  not  sure  that  I  have  lost  all 
that  lively  admiration  yet,  though  I  have  since  seen  dozens 
of  cities  more  populous,  more  cultivated,  and  more  opulent. 
Many  years  of  travel  have  not  extinguished  my  early  faith, 
but  it  would  require  ages  to  eradicate  my  affection  for  the 
city  which  first  taught  me  that  a  boy  may  become  a  man. 

Had  the  joylessness  of  boyhood  endured  a  few  years  longer, 
it  is  probable  that  the  power  of  joyousness  would  have  dried 
up;  but,  fortunately,  though  I  had  seen  fifteen  summers,  I 
was  a  mere  child  in  experience.  It  was  only  eighteen  months 
since  I  had  left  St.  Asaph,  and  but  two  months  and  a  half  since 
I  had  entered  the  world  outside  my  family.  Since  I  became  a 
man,  I  have  often  wondered  what  would  have  become  of  me 
had  my  melting  mood  that  last  night  at  Roscommon  Street 
lasted  a  little  longer.  It  was  the  turning-point  of  my  life,  I 
am  disposed  to  think,  and  it  was  good  for  me  to  have  had  the 
courage  to  say  'No,'  at  that  critical  moment.  A  trifle  more 
perseverance,  on  the  part  of  Uncle  Tom,  would  have  overcome 
my  inclination  for  departure  from  England,  and  made  me  a 
fixture  within  his  own  class.  On  that  occasion  my  weakly, 
half-hearted  negative  served  me  to  good  purpose ;  but  I  should 
have  been  spared  many  trials  had  I  been  educated  to  utter  my 
4  Noes  '  more  often,  more  loudly,  and  more  firmly  than  I  have ; 
and  I  suppose  most  men  have  had  cause  to  condemn  that 
unsatisfactory  education  which  sent  them  into  the  world  so 
imperfectly  equipped  for  moral  resistance.  In  my  opinion, 
the  courage  to  deliver  a  proper  'No'  ought  to  be  cultivated  as 
soon  as  a  child's  intelligence  is  sufficiently  advanced.  The 
few  times  I  have  been  able  to  say  it  have  been  productive  of 
immense  benefit  to  me,  though  to  my  shame,  be  it  said,  I 
yearned  to  say  'Yes.* 

That  soft  habit  of  becoming  fondly  attached  to  associa- 
tions, which  made  me  weep  on  leaving  St.  Asaph,  Ffynnon 
Beuno,  Brynford,  Liverpool,  and  even  the  *  Windermere, ' 
made  me  cling  to  my  attic  room  in  the  house  of  Mrs.  Williams. 
My  increase  of  pay  enabled  me  to  secure  a  larger  and  more 
comfortable  room;  but,  detesting  change,  I  remained  its  oc- 


AT   WORK  97 

cupant.  My  self-denial  was  compensated,  however,  by  a  fine 
surplus  of  dollars,  with  which  I  satisfied  a  growing  desire  for 
books. 

So  far,  all  the  story-books  I  had  read,  beyond  the  fragments 
found  in  School-readers,  consisted  of  that  thrilling  romance 
about  Enoch  and  his  brothers,  a  novelette  called  '  First  Foot- 
steps in  Evil,'  'Kaloolah,'  by  Dr.  Mayo,  which  I  had  found  at 
Ffynnon  Beuno,  and  'Ivanhoe,'  in  three  volumes,  at  which  I 
had  furtively  glanced  as  it  lay  open  in  my  cousin's  study  at 
Brynford. 

Through  the  influence  of  cheap  copies  of  standard  books, 
millions  of  readers  in  America  have  been  educated,  at  slight 
cost,  in  the  best  productions  of  English  authors ;  and  when 
these  have  been  delegated  to  the  second-hand  bookstalls,  it  is 
wonderful  what  a  library  one  can  possess  at  a  trifling  expense. 
There  was  such  a  stall  existing  conveniently  near  St.  Thomas 
Street,  which  I  daily  passed ;  and  I  could  never  resist  fingering 
the  books,  and  snatching  brief  delights  from  their  pages.  As 
soon  as  my  wardrobe  was  established,  I  invested  my  surplus 
in  purchases  of  this  description,  and  the  bookseller,  seeing  a 
promising  customer  in  me,  allowed  me  some  latitude  in  my 
selection,  and  even  catered  to  my  tastes.  The  state  of  the 
binding  mattered  little ;  it  was  the  contents  that  fascinated 
me.  My  first  prize  that  I  took  home  was  Gibbon's  'Decline 
and  Fall,'  in  four  volumes,  because  it  was  associated  with 
Brynford  lessons.  I  devoured  it  now  for  its  own  sake.  Little 
by  little,  I  acquired  Spenser's  'Faery  Queen,'  Tasso's  'Jerusa- 
lem Delivered,'  Pope's  'Iliad,'  Dryden's  'Odyssey,'  'Paradise 
Lost,'  Plutarch's  'Lives,'  Simplicius  on  Epictetus,  a  big 
'History  of  the  United  States,'  the  last  of  which  I  sadly 
needed,  because  of  my  utter  ignorance  of  the  country  I  was  in. 

Mrs.  Williams  gave  me  a  few  empty  cases,  out  of  which, 
with  the  loan  of  a  saw,  hammer,  and  nails,  I  constructed  a 
creditable  book-case ;  and,  when  it  was  put  up,  I  do  believe 
my  senses  contained  as  much  delight  as  they  were  able  to 
endure,  without  making  me  extravagant  in  behaviour.  My 
attic  became  my  world  now,  and  a  very  great  expansible 
world,  full  of  kings,  emperors,  knights,  warriors,  heroes,  and 
angels.  Without,  it  might  have  been  better,  less  sordid; 
within,  it  was  glorious  for  great  deeds  and  splendid  pageantry. 


98  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

It  affected  my  dreams,  for  I  dreamed  of  the  things  that  I  had 
read.  I  was  transported  into  Trojan  Fields,  and  Odyssean 
Isles,  and  Roman  Palaces ;  and  my  saturated  brain  revolved 
prose  as  stately  as  Gibbon's,  and  couplets  that  might  have 
been  a  credit  to  Pope,  only,  if  I  chanced  to  remember  at  day- 
break what  I  had  been  busy  upon  throughout  the  night,  the 
metre  and  rhyme  were  shameful ! 

My  self-indulgence  in  midnight  readings  was  hurtful  to  my 
eyes,  but  they  certainly  interposed  between  me  and  other 
harms.  The  passion  of  study  was  so  absorbing  that  it  effect- 
ually prevented  the  intrusion  of  other  passions,  while  it  did 
not  conflict  with  day-work  at  the  store.  Hall  and  Kemp's 
young  gentlemen  sometimes  awoke  in  me  a  languid  interest 
in  Ben  de  Bar's  Theatrical  troupe,  or  in  some  great  actor ;  but, 
on  reaching  home,  my  little  library  attracted  my  attention, 
and  a  dip  into  a  page  soon  effaced  all  desire  for  other  plea- 
sure. What  I  am  I  owe  to  example,  nature,  school-education, 
reading,  travel,  observation,  and  reflection.  An  infinitesimal 
amount  of  the  mannerisms  observed  clung  to  me,  no  doubt. 
The  housewifely  orderliness  of  Aunt  Mary,  the  serious  propri- 
ety of  Cousin  Moses,  —  then,  when  I  went  to  sea,  the  stern 
voice  of  the  captain,  the  ripping,  explosive  manner  of  the 
mates,  the  reckless  abandon  of  the  sailors,  —  after  that,  the 
conscientious  yielding  of  myself  to  details  of  business,  —  all 
this  left  indelible  impressions  on  me. 

About  the  fourth  week  Mr.  Stanley  returned,  with  a  new 
batch  of  orders.  He  warmly  congratulated  me  upon  my  im- 
proved appearance,  and  confidentially  whispered  to  me  that 
Mr.  Speake  was  thoroughly  satisfied  with  my  devotion  to 
business.  He  gave  me  his  card,  and  said  that  on  the  following 
Sunday  he  would  be  glad  to  see  me  at  breakfast. 

When  the  day  arrived,  I  went  to  St.  Charles  Street,  a 
quarter  greatly  superior  to  St.  Thomas  Street.  The  houses 
were  aristocratic,  being  of  classic  design,  with  pillared  porti- 
coes, and  wide,  cool  verandahs,  looking  out  upon  garden-shrub- 
bery and  flowering  magnolias.  Mr.  Stanley  was  in  an  easy- 
chair,  awaiting  me.  But  for  that,  I  should  have  hesitated  at 
mounting  the  wide  steps,  so  imposing  the  establishment 
appeared.   He  took  me  by  the  hand  to  an  ample  room  luxuri- 


AT   WORK  99 

ously  furnished,  and  introduced  me  to  a  fragile  little  lady,  who 
was  the  picture  of  refinement.  My  reception  was  of  such  a 
character  that  it  led  me  to  believe  she  was  as  tender  and  mild 
as  her  quiet  and  subdued  looks ;  and  the  books  on  the  centre 
t^ble  made  me  think  her  pious.  Nothing  could  have  been 
better  calculated  to  conquer  my  shyness  than  the  gracious 
welcome  she  accorded  me.  We  took  our  respective  places  at 
once,  she  as  a  motherly  patroness,  and  I  as  a  devotedly- 
grateful  protege,  fully  sensible  of  what  was  due  to  her  as  the 
wife  of  my  benefactor.  Her  husband  stood  towering  over  me 
with  his  hand  on  my  head,  and  an  encouraging  smile  on  his 
face,  that  I  might  speak  out  without  fear ;  and  he  watched  the 
impression  I  made  on  his  wife.  The  ordeal  of  presentation 
was  made  easy  through  her  natural  goodness,  and  the  gentle 
art  she  possessed  of  winning  my  confidence.  She  placed  me  on 
a  divan  near  her,  and  I  was  soon  prattling  away  with  a  glib- 
ness  that  a  few  minutes  before  would  have  been  deemed  im- 
possible to  such  a  stocky  boy. 

To  confine  within  a  sentence  my  impressions  of  the  first 
lady  I  ever  conversed  with,  is  entirely  beyond  my  power. 
There  was  an  atmosphere  about  her,  in  the  first  place,  which 
was  wholly  new.  The  elaborateness  and  richness  of  dress,  the 
purity  and  delicacy  of  her  face,  the  exquisite  modulations  of 
her  voice,  the  distinctness  of  her  enunciation,  and  the  sweet 
courtesy  of  her  manner,  I  will  not  say  awed  me,  but  it  kindled 
as  much  of  reverence  as  ever  I  felt  in  my  life.  If  I  were  to  com- 
bine this  with  a  feeling  that  the  being  beside  me  might  com- 
mand me  to  endure  practically  any  torture,  or  dare  any  danger, 
for  her  sake,  it  will  perhaps  sum  up  the  effect  which  this  gen- 
tlewoman made  on  my  raw  mind.  It  was  at  this  hour  I  made 
the  discovery  of  the  immense  distance  between  a  lady  and  a 
mere  woman ;  and,  while  I  gazed  at  her  clear,  lustrous  eyes, 
and  noted  the  charms  which  played  about  her  features,  I  was 
thinking  that,  if  a  lady  could  be  so  superior  to  an  ordinary 
housewife,  with  her  careless  manner  of  speech,  and  matter-of- 
fact  ways,  what  a  beautiful  thing  an  angel  must  be ! 

When  we  adjourned  to  the  breakfast-table,  I  found  more 
material  to  reflect  upon.  There  were  about  a  dozen  people, 
of  about  the  age  and  rank  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stanley,  at  the 
table ;  and  it  struck  me  that  there  was  an  almost  impassable 


ico  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

gulf  between  me  and  them.  Their  conversation  was  beyond 
my  understanding,  mostly,  though  I  could  spell  and  interpret 
each  word  ;  but  the  subjects  of  their  talk  left  me  in  the  clouds. 
Their  remarks  upon  literature,  politics,  and  social  life,  seemed 
to  me  most  appropriate  to  books ;  but  it  surprised  me  to  think 
that  people  could  exchange  so  much  learning  across  a  table 
with  the  fluency  of  boys  discussing  the  quality  of  pudding. 
Their  soothing  manner  of  address,  the  mutual  respect,  and 
deferent  temper,  greatly  elevated  them  above  my  coarse- 
grained acquaintances;  and,  though  they  must  have  guessed, 
by  my  manner  and  age,  that  I  did  not  belong  to  their  sphere, 
they  paid  me  the  honour  of  including  me  in  their  courteous 
circle,  until,  unconsciously,  I  was  straining  to  acquit  myself 
worthily.  Altogether,  it  was  a  memorable  breakfast;  and, 
when  I  reached  home,  it  seemed  to  me  that  fortune  was  about 
to  spoil  me ;  otherwise,  why  this  glow  and  pride  that  I  felt  ? 
After  this  Sunday,  my  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Stanley 
rapidly  ripened  into  something  exceeding  common  gratitude. 
His  bearing  towards  me  was  different  from  that  which  any- 
body else  showed  to  me.  Many  were  kind  and  approving; 
but,  nevertheless,  no  one  stooped  to  court  my  notice  with  that 
warm,  genial  manner  wThich  distinguished  Mr.  Stanley.  I 
felt  frequently  flattered  by  the  encomiums  of  Mr.  Speake,  and 
the  friendship  of  Richardson ;  but  still,  there  was  something 
of  reserve  between  us,  which  kept  me  somewhat  tongue-tied 
in  their  presence.  They  never  inquired  about  my  welfare  or 
health,  or  how  I  liked  my  boarding-house,  or  what  I  thought 
of  anything,  or  made  any  suggestion  which  would  stimulate 
confidence.  Their  talks  with  me  were  all  about  the  business 
appertaining  to  the  store,  or  some  hap-hazard  remark  about 
the  weather,  or  some  scene  in  the  street;  but  Mr.  Stanley's 
way  was  as  though  it  specially  concerned  him  to  know  every- 
thing about  me  personally,  which  had  the  quality  of  drawing 
me  out,  and  making  me  garrulous,  to  the  verge  of  familiarity. 
So,  little  by  little,  I  came  to  regard  him  as  an  elderly  associate, 
with  such  a  charming,  infectious  frankness,  that  I  could  only, 
for  want  of  a  comparison,  remember  my  affection  for  my 
old  grandfather,  as  corresponding  with  the  mixed  feelings 
of  regard  and  awe  I  had  towards  him.  Besides,  to  be  in  his 
company,  even  for  a  brief  time,  was  an  education  for  one  so 


AT  WORK  101 

ignorant  as  myself.  Information  about  somebody  or  some- 
thing dropped  from  his  lips  with  every  remark  he  made.  I 
felt  myself  becoming  intelligent,  informed  about  the  geography 
and  history  of  the  city  and  state  that  I  was  in,  and  Earned  in 
the  ways  and  customs  of  the  people.  The  great  merchants  and 
institutions  assumed  a  greater  interest  for  me.  They  were 
something  more  than  strange  names  for  repetition ;  they  had 
associations  which  revealed  personalities  of  worth,  colossal 
munificence,  remunerative  enterprise,  etc.,  etc. 

Every  Sunday  morning  I  spent  with  the  Stanleys,  and  the 
instantaneous  impression  I  had  received  of  their  goodness 
was  more  than  confirmed.  Mrs.  Stanley  seemed  to  become 
at  each  visit  more  tender  and  caressingly  kind,  in  the  same 
manner  as  he  manifested  a  more  paternal  cordiality.  I 
yielded  myself  wholly  to  their  influence,  so  that  my  conduct 
when  out  of  their  sight  was  governed  by  the  desire  to  retain 
their  good  opinions.  Without  them,  probably,  my  love  of 
books  would  have  proved  sufficient  safe-guard  against  the 
baser  kind  of  temptations;  but,  with  them,  I  was  rendered 
almost  impregnable  to  vice.  They  took  me  to  church,  each 
Sabbath ;  and,  in  other  ways,  manifested  a  protective  care. 
I  resumed  the  custom  of  morning  and  evening  prayer,  my 
industry  at  the  store  was  of  a  more  thoughtful  kind,  my 
comings  and  goings  were  of  more  exemplary  punctuality.  The 
orderly,  industrious  life  I  was  following  not  only  ensured 
me  the  friendship  of  the  Stanleys,  but  won  me  favour  from 
Mr.  Speake,  who,  though  wearing  often  a  somewhat  anxious 
expression,  restrained  himself  whenever  he  had  an  occasion  to 
communicate  with  me. 

In  the  third  month  there  was  a  change  at  the  store.  Mr. 
Speake  had  some  words  with  Mr.  Kennicy,  the  book-keeper, 
who,  being,  as  I  said,  touchy,  resigned  on  the  spot.  A  Mr. 
J.  D.  Kitchen  was  employed  in  his  stead,  and  Mr.  Speake  saw 
fit  to  increase  my  salary  to  thirty  dollars  a  month,  giving  for 
his  reason  the  fact  that  the  store  had  never  been  in  such  ad- 
mirable order  as  it  had  been  since  I  had  entered  it.  I  was 
immensely  proud,  of  course,  at  this  acknowledgement ;  but  it 
was  only  natural  that,  being  so  susceptible  and  impressionable, 
it  should  stimulate  me  to  greater  efforts  to  deserve  his  appro- 
bation.   Enlightening  me,  as  it  did,  in  duties  expected  of  me, 


102  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

it  might  be  said  to  have  increased  my  interest  in  the  condition 
of  the  store,  until  it  partook  of  that  which  a  fond  proprietor 
might  feel  in  it.  Envious,  or  ill-natured,  people  might  have 
said  it  was  fussy,  or  officious.  At  any  rate,  this  disposition 
to  have  everything  clean,  to  keep  the  stacks  in  orderly  ar- 
rangement, to  be  on  hand  when  wanted,  tc  keep  my  notes  of 
shipment  methodically,  to  be  studiously  bent  upon  perfection 
in  my  duties,  led  to  the  following  incident. 

We  were  ordered  to  take  stock,  and,  while  counting  cases, 
and  sacks,  and  barrels,  etc.,  I  had  now  and  then  to  rearrange 
the  stacks,  because,  in  the  hurry  of  business,  a  box  of  pickles 
or  jams  had  become  mixed  with  biscuits  or  candle-boxes; 
and,  in  handling  these  articles,  it  struck  me  that  several  of 
them  were  uncommonly  light.  I  mentioned  this,  but  it  did 
not  attract  much  attention.  It  was  discovered,  also,  that  the 
coffee-sacks  were  much  slacker  than  they  ought  to  be ;  but, 
though  the  rents  through  which  the  contents  must  have 
escaped  appeared  as  if  made  by  rats,  as  the  quantity  of  ber- 
ries on  the  ground  was  inadequate  to  the  loss,  I  knew  no  other 
way  in  which  to  account  for  it.  However,  when,  on  going  to 
the  lofts,  we  gauged  the  contents  of  the  wine-puncheons  and 
syrup-barrels,  and  found  them  to  be  half-emptied,  matters 
began  to  look  serious.  The  leakage  on  the  floor  was  not  suffi- 
cient to  explain  the  loss  of  so  many  gallons ;  and  the  discussion 
between  the  book-keeper  and  shipping-clerk  suggested  trouble 
when  the  'old  man'  would  be  informed.  From  what  I  gathered, 
the  former  book-keeper,  Mr.  Kennicy,  was  supposed  to  be 
in  fault.  We  were  short  of  several  boxes  of  biscuits,  sardines, 
and  other  articles ;  and  it  seemed  obvious  that  Mr.  Kennicy 
must  have  omitted  to  enter  sales  on  his  book,  and  thus 
caused  this  unexpected  discrepancy. 

Mr.  Speake,  as  had  been  anticipated,  exhibited  much  vexa- 
tion, though,  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Kitchen  and  Mr.  Richard- 
son, he  could  only  ask,  querulously,  '  How  could  such  articles 
disappear  in  such  a  disproportionate  manner?  We  do  not 
sell  by  retail.  If  we  sold  wine,  or  syrup,  at  all,  we  would  sell 
by  the  cask,  or  barrel,  and  not  by  the  gallon.  The  barrels  seem 
to  tally,  but  the  contents  are  diminished  in  some  mysterious 
manner.  Then  there  are  the  emptied  cases,  of  which  this  boy 
has  spoken :  how  can  we  account  for  bottles  taken  from  one, 


AT  WORK  103 

and  tins  from  another  ?  The  invoices  were  checked  when  the 
goods  came  in,  and  no  deficiency  was  reported  to  me.  There 
is  gross  carelessness  somewhere,  and  it  must  be  looked  into,' 

etc.,  etc. 

Both  Mr.  Kitchen  and  Mr.  Richardson,  under  this  argu- 
ment, laboured  under  the  sense  of  reproach,  and  I  was  not 
wholly  free  from  a  feeling  of  remissness.  I  strove  hard  to  re- 
member whether  in  conveying  the  cases  to  their  respective 
piles,  or  hoisting  the  barrels  to  the  lofts,  a  suspicion  of  light 
weight  had  entered  my  mind ;  and  while  filled  with  a  sense  of 
doubt  and  misgiving,  I  proceeded  to  hunt  for  a  broom  to 
sweep  up,  before  closing.  I  found  one  in  the  corner  of  the 
back-yard ;  but,  on  drawing  it  to  me,  a  tin  lunch-bucket  was 
disclosed,  the  sight  of  which  in  such  an  unexpected  place 
suggested  that  the  broom  had  been  placed  to  screen  it  from 
view.  On  taking  hold  of  it,  I  was  amazed  at  its  weight ;  but, 
on  lifting  the  lid,  I  no  longer  wondered,  for  it  was  three- 
fourths  full  of  golden  syrup.  It  flashed  across  my  mind  that 
here  was  the  solution  of  the  mystery  that  troubled  us,  and 
that,  if  one  bucket  was  made  the  means  of  surreptitiously 
conveying  golden  syrup,  a  second  might  be  used  for  the  same 
purpose.  On  searching  for  the  other  negro's  bucket,  I  found 
it  placed  high  above  my  reach,  on  a  peg,  and  under  his  out- 
door coat.  Seizing  a  board,  I  struck  it  underneath,  and  a  few 
drops  of  a  dark  aromatic  liquor  trickled  down  the  sides.  As, 
now,  there  could  be  no  reason  to  doubt  that  the  culprits  had 
been  discovered,  I  hastened  to  the  ofnce  to  give  my  infor- 
mation. 

By  great  good-luck,  Mr.  Stanley  appeared  at  that  moment, 
and  I  at  once  acquainted  him  with  what  I  had  found.  Mr. 
Richardson  joined  us,  and,  when  he  had  heard  it,  he  became 
hotly  indignant,  and  cried,  'I  see  it  all  now.  Come  on,  let  us 
inform  Mr.  Speake,  and  have  this  affair  cleared  up  at  once!' 

Mr.  Speake  and  Mr.  Kitchen  were  in  the  office  turning  over 
ledger,  journal,  and  day-book,  comparing  entries,  when  we 
burst  upon  them  with  the  discovery.  Mr.  Speake  was  aston- 
ished and  exclaimed,  'There  now,  who  would  have  thought 
of  these  fellows?  A  systematic  robbery  has  been  going  on  for 
goodness  knows  how  long!' 

While   breathlessly  discussing   the   matter,   we  suddenly 


104  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

remembered  various  strange  proceedings  of  the  negroes,  and 
our  suspicions  were  excited  that  there  must  be  certain  secret 
nests  of  stores  somewhere  in  the  building ;  and  Richardson 
and  I  were  sent  off  to  explore.  The  same  idea  seemed  to  be 
in  our  minds,  for  we  first  searched  the  dark  alleys  between  the 
goods-piles,  and,  in  a  short  time,  we  had  lit  upon  the  secret 
hoards.  Hams,  sardines,  and  tins  of  biscuits,  packages  of  can- 
dles, etc.,  etc.,  were  found  between  the  hogsheads  and  tierces ; 
and,  when  we  had  carried  them  to  the  office,  the  indignation 
of  everyone  was  very  high. 

Dan  and  Samuel  had  been  all  this  time  in  the  upper  lofts,  and 
were  now  called  down.  When  questioned  as  to  their  opinions 
about  the  disappearance  of  certain  articles,  they  both  denied 
all  knowledge,  and  affected  the  ignorance  of  innocence ;  but, 
when  they  were  sharply  told  to  lead  us  to  their  tin  buckets, 
their  features  underwent  a  remarkable  change,  and  assumed 
a  strange  grey  colour.  Dan  pretended  to  forget  where  he 
had  placed  his  bucket ;  but,  when  Mr.  Speake  took  him  by 
the  collar  and  led  him  to  the  broom  that  hid  it,  he  fell  on  his 
knees,  and  begged  his  master's  pardon.  Mr.  Speake  was, 
however,  too  angry  to  listen  to  him,  and,  snatching  the  lid 
off,  revealed  to  us  half  a  gallon  of  the  best  golden  syrup,  which 
the  wretch  had  intended  to  have  taken  home.  When  Sam's 
useful  utensil  was  examined,  it  was  found  that  its  owner  had 
a  preference  for  sweet  Malmsey  wine ! 

A  constable  was  called  in,  and  Dan  and  Samuel  were 
marched  off  to  the  watch-house,  to  receive  on  the  next  day  such 
a  flogging  as  only  practised  State-officials  know  how  to  ad- 
minister. Dan,  a  few  days  later,  was  reinstated  at  the  store ; 
but  Samuel  was  disposed  of  to  a  planter,  for  field-work. 

The  last  Sunday  morning  Mr.  Stanley  was  in  the  city,  on 
this  occasion,  was  marked  with  a  visit  he  paid  to  me  at  my 
humble  boarding-house.  He  was  pleased  to  express  his  great 
surprise  that,  at  that  early  hour,  my  attic  was  arranged  as 
though  for  inspection.  He  scrutinised  my  book-case,  and  re- 
marked that  I  had  a  pretty  broad  taste,  and  suggested  that 
I  should  procure  various  books  which  he  mentioned.  In  self- 
defence,  I  was  obliged  to  plead  poverty,  and  explained  that  my 
books  were  only  such  as  I  could  obtain  at  a  second-hand  book- 
stall. He  finally  condescended  to  breakfast  with  me,  and  made 


AT  WORK  .  105 

himself  especially  agreeable  to  Mrs.  Williams  and  her  guests ; 
after  which,  we  went  to  church,  and  thence  he  took  me  to 
dine  with  him.  In  the  afternoon,  we  drove  in  a  carriage  down 
Levee  Street,  past  the  French  Market,  and  I  was  shown  many 
of  the  public  buildings,  banks,  and  squares;  and,  later,  we 
took  a  short  railway  trip  to  Lake  Ponchartrain,  which  is  a 
fair  piece  of  water,  and  is  a  great  resort  for  bathers.  When 
we  returned  to  the  city,  late  in  the  evening,  I  was  fairly  in- 
structed in  the  topography  of  the  city  and  neighbourhood, 
and  had  passed  a  most  agreeable  and  eventful  day. 

On  the  next  evening,  I  found  a  parcel  addressed  to  me, 
which,  when  opened,  disclosed  a  dozen  new  books  in  splendid 
green  and  blue  covers,  bearing  the  names  of  Shakespeare, 
Byron,  Irving,  Goldsmith,  Ben  Jonson,  Cowper,  etc.  They 
wTere  a  gift  from  Mr.  Stanley,  and  in  each  book  was  his  auto- 
graph. 

The  summer  of  1859,  according  to  Mr.  Richardson,  was 
extremely  unhealthy.  Yellow  fever  and  dysentery  were  rag- 
ing. What  a  sickly  season  meant  I  could  not  guess;  for,  in 
those  days,  I  never  read  a  newspaper,  and  the  city  traffic,  to 
all  appearance,  was  much  as  usual.  On  Mr.  Speake's  face, 
however,  I  noticed  lines  of  suffering ;  and  one  day  he  was  so 
ill  that  he  could  not  attend  to  business.  Three  or  four  days 
later,  he  was  dead ;  and  a  message  came  from  the  widow  that 
I  should  visit  her,  at  her  home,  at  the  corner  of  Girod  and 
Carondelet  Streets.  She  was  now  in  a  state  of  terrible  distress, 
and,  clad  in  heavy  mourning,  she  impressed  me  with  very 
sombre  thoughts.  It  comforted  her  to  hear  how  sensible  we 
all  were  of  her  loss;  and  then  she  communicated  to  me  her 
reasons  for  desiring  my  presence.  Through  her  husband  she 
had  been  made  aware  of  my  personal  history,  and,  on  account 
of  the  interest  it  had  excited  in  her,  she  had  often  induced  her 
husband  to  tell  her  every  incident  at  the  store.  She  proceeded 
to  reveal  to  me  the  flattering  opinion  he  had  formed  of  me, 
in  terms  that  augmented  my  grief;  and,  as  a  mark  of  special 
favour,  I  was  invited  to  stay  in  the  house  until  after  the 
funeral. 

That  night,  I  was  asked  to  watch  the  dead,  a  duty  of  which 
I  was  wholly  unaware  before.  The  body  rested  in  a  splendid 
open  coffin,  covered  with  muslin,  but  the  ghastliness  of  death 


io6  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

was  somewhat  relieved  by  the  Sunday  costume  in  which  the 
defunct  merchant  was  clothed.  When  the  traffic  of  the  streets 
had  ceased,  and  the  silence  of  the  night  had  fallen  on  the 
city,  the  shadows  in  the  ill-lit  room  grew  mysterious.  About 
midnight,  I  dozed  a  little,  but  suddenly  woke  up  with  an 
instinctive  feeling  that  the  muslin  had  moved !  I  sprang  to 
my  feet,  and  memories  of  spectral  tales  were  revived.  Was  it 
an  illusion,  begotten  of  fear?  Was  Mr.  Speake  really  dead? 
There  was,  at  that  moment,  another  movement,  and  I  pre- 
pared to  give  the  alarm;  but  a  sacrilegious  'meow'  betrayed 
the  character  of  the  ghost !  A  second  later,  it  was  felled  by  a 
bolster ;  and,  in  its  haste  to  escape,  the  cat  entangled  its  claws 
in  the  muslin,  and  tore  and  spat  in  a  frenzy;  but  this  was  the 
means  of  saving  me  from  the  necessity  of  chasing  the  wretched 
animal  along  the  corridors,  for,  as  it  was  rushing  through  the 
door,  I  caught  the  veil. 

The  next  day,  a  long  procession  wound  through  the  streets 
towards  the  cemetery.1  The  place  of  interment  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  high  wall,  which  contained  several  square  tab- 
lets, commemorative,  as  I  supposed,  of  the  dead  lying  in  the 
earth ;  but  I  was  much  shocked  when  I  learned  that,  behind 
each  tablet,  was  a  long  narrow  cell  wherein  bodies  were  cor- 
rupting. One  of  these  cells  had  just  been  opened,  and  was 
destined  for  the  body  of  my  late  employer ;  but,  unfortunately 
for  my  feelings,  not  far  off  lay,  huddled  in  a  corner,  the  relics 
of  mortality  which  had  occupied  it  previously,  and  which 
had  been  ruthlessly  displaced. 

Within  a  short  time,  the  store,  with  all  its  contents,  was 
disposed  of  by  auction,  to  Messrs.  Ellison  and  McMillan. 
Messrs.  Kitchen  and  Richardson  departed  elsewhere,  but  I 
was  retained  by  the  new  firm.  Mrs.  Cornelia  Speake  and  her 
two  children  removed  to  Louisville,  and  I  never  saw  either 
of  them  again. 

About  this  time  there  came  to  Mrs.  Williams's  boarding- 
house  a  blue-eyed  and  fair-haired  lad,  of  about  my  own  age, 
seeking  lodgings.  As  the  house  was  full,  the  landlady  insisted 

1  From  Note-Book :  — 

'In  the  morning,  hired  hack,  visited  Saint  Roch's,  or  Campo  Santo,  St.  Louis  — 
i,  2,  3,  &  4,  Cemeteries  — drove  to  Girod's  Cemetery  —  examined  book,  and  found  that 
James  Speake  died  October  26th,  and  was  buried  October  27th,  1859,  aged  47.' 


AT  WORK  107 

on  accommodating  him  in  my  room,  and  bedding  him  with 
me;  and,  on  finding  that  the  boy  was  English,  and  just  ar- 
rived from  Liverpool,  I  assented  to  her  arrangement. 

My  intended  bed-fellow  called  himself  Dick  Heaton,  and 
described  himself  as  having  left  Liverpool  in  the  ship  '  Poca- 
hontas,' as  a  cabin-boy.  He  also  had  been  a  victim  to  the 
hellish  brutality  of  Americans  at  sea,  the  steward  apparently 
having  been  as  callous  and  cruel  as  Nelson  of  the  'Winder- 
mere' ;  and,  no  sooner  had  his  ship  touched  the  pier,  than  the 
boy  fled,  as  from  a  fury.  Scarcely  anything  could  have  been 
better  calculated  to  win  my  sympathy  than  the  recital  of 
experiences  similar  to  my  own,  by  one  of  my  own  age,  and 
hailing  from  the  same  port  that  I  had  come  from. 

Dick  was  clever  and  intelligent,  though  not  well  educated ; 
but,  to  make  up  for  his  deficiency  in  learning,  he  was  gifted 
with  a  remarkable  fluency,  and  had  one  of  the  cheeriest 
laughs,  and  a  prettiness  of  manner  which  made  up  for  all 
defects. 

Our  bed  was  a  spacious  four-poster,  and  four  slim  lads  like 
us  might  have  been  easily  accommodated  in  it.  I  observed, 
however,  with  silent  surprise,  that  he  was  so  modest  he  would 
not  retire  by  candle-light,  and  that  when  he  got  into  bed  he 
lay  on  the  verge  of  it,  far  removed  from  contact  with  me. 
When  I  rose  in  the  morning,  I  found  that  he  was  not  un- 
dressed, which  he  explained  by  saying  that  he  had  turned  in 
thus  from  the  habit  of  holding  himself  ready  for  a  call.  On 
beginning  his  voyage  he  had  been  so  severely  thrashed  for  a 
delay  caused  by  dressing,  that  he  had  scarcely  dared  to  take 
off  his  boots  during  the  whole  voyage.  He  also  told  me  that, 
when  he  had  discovered  how  almost  impossible  it  was  to  avoid 
a  beating  from  the  steward  and  cook,  he  had  resorted  to  the 
expedient  of  padding  the  seat  of  his  trousers  with  cotton,  and 
wearing  a  pad  of  the  same  material  along  the  spine,  but  to 
avert  suspicion  that  he  was  thus  cunningly  fortified  against 
the  blows,  he  had  always  continued  to  howl  as  freely  as  before. 
The  naivete  of  the  revelation  was  most  amusing,  though  I  was 
surprised  at  the  shameless  way  in  which  he  disclosed  his 
tricks  and  cowardly  fears.  However,  it  did  not  deter  me 
from  responding  to  his  friendly  advances,  and  in  two  days  I 
came  to  regard  him  as  a  very  charming  companion.    The 


io8  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

third  morning,  being  Sunday,  we  chatted  longer  abed ;  but, 
when  rising  together,  I  cast  a  glance  at  his  hips,  and  remarked 
that  he  need  have  no  fear  of  being  thrashed  at  New  Orleans. 
He  appeared  a  little  confused  at  first,  but,  suddenly  remem- 
bering, he  said  that  on  the  Monday  he  would  have  to  purchase 
a  new  pair  of  trousers  and  seek  work.  A  little  later,  it  struck 
me  that  there  was  an  unusual  forward  inclination  of  the  body, 
and  a  singular  leanness  of  the  shoulders,  compared  with  the 
fulness  below  the  waist  in  him;  and  I  remarked  that  he 
walked  more  like  a  girl  than  a  boy.  'So  do  you,'  he  retorted, 
with  a  liberty  natural  to  our  age,  at  which  I  only  laughed. 

I  proposed  to  him  that  we  should  breakfast  at  the  French 
Market  that  morning,  to  which  he  willingly  agreed.  We 
walked  down  Levee  Street,  down  to  the  foot  of  Canal  Street, 
where  we  saw  fifty  or  sixty  river  steamers  assembled,  which, 
massed  together,  made  a  most  imposing  sight.  Turning  to 
take  a  view  of  the  scene  up-river,  with  its  miles  upon  miles 
of  shipping,  its  levee  choked  with  cotton,  and  other  cargoes, 
he  said  that  it  was  a  finer  sight  than  even  the  docks  of  Liver- 
pool. After  a  cup  of  coffee  and  some  sugared  waffles,  we  pro- 
ceeded on  a  tour  through  the  old  quarter  of  the  city,  and 
wandered  past  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Louis,  and  through  Royal, 
Chartres,  Burgundy,  and  Toulouse  Streets,  and,  coming 
home  by  Rampart  Street,  entered  Canal  Street,  and  con- 
tinued our  weary  way,  through  Carondelet  and  St.  Charles 
Streets,  home,  where  we  arrived  heated  and  hungry.  Dick 
had  shown  himself  very  observant,  and  professed  to  be  as- 
tonished at  the  remarkable  variety  of  complexions  and  ap- 
pearance of  the  population.  So  long  as  we  were  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  levee  he  had  been  rather  shy,  and  had  cast 
anxious  glances  about  him,  fearing  recognition  from  some  of 
the  crew  of  the  'Pocahontas';  but,  after  we  had  gone  into 
some  of  the  back  streets,  he  had  been  more  at  ease,  and  his 
remarks  upon  the  types  of  people  we  met  showed  much 
shrewdness. 

Monday  morning  I  woke  at  an  early  hour,  to  prepare  my- 
self for  th£  week's  labour;  and,  on  looking  towards  Dick,  who 
was  still  sound  asleep,  was  amazed  to  see  what  I  took  to  be 
two  tumours  on  his  breast.  My  ejaculation  and  start  woke 
my  companion.   He  asked  what  was  the  matter?  Pointing  to 


AT   WORK  109 

his   open  breast,    I   anxiously   inquired   if   those   were    not 
painful? 

He  reddened,  and,  in  an  irritable  manner,  told  me  that  I 
had  better  mind  my  own  business !  Huffed  at  his  ungracious- 
ness, I  turned  resentfully  away.  Almost  immediately  after, 
I  reminded  myself  of  his  confusion,  his  strange  manner  of 
entering  a  clean  bed  with  his  clothes  on,  his  jealous  avoidance 
of  the  light,  his  affectation  of  modesty,  his  peculiar  suppleness 
and  mincing  gait,  and  the  odd  style  of  his  figure.  These 
things  shaped  themselves  rapidly  into  proofs  that  Dick  was 
not  what  he  represented  himself  to  be.  True,  he  had  a  boy's 
name,  he  wore  boy's  clothes,  he  had  been  a  cabin-boy;  but 
such  a  strange  boy  I  had  never  seen.  He  talked  far  too  much 
and  too  fluently,  he  was  too  tricky,  too  nimble,  somehow. 
Xo,  I  was  convinced  he  could  not  be  a  boy  !  I  sat  up  triumph- 
antly, and  cried  out  with  the  delight  of  a  discoverer :  — 

1 1  know  !   I  know  !   Dick,  you  are  a  girl  V 

Nevertheless,  when  he  faced  me,  and  unblushingly  admitted 
the  accusation,  it  frightened  me ;  and  I  sprang  out  of  bed  as 
though  I  had  been  scorched ! 

'What,'  I  exclaimed,  'do  you  mean  to  say  you  are  a  girl?' 

'Yes,  I  am,'  said  she,  turning  pale,  as  she  became  infected 
with  my  excitement. 

Perplexed  at  this  astounding  confirmation  of  what,  after 
all,  had  been  only  a  surmise  of  playful  malice,  I  stammeringly 
demanded,  — 

'Well,  what  is  your  name,  then?  It  cannot  be  Dick,  for  that 
belongs  to  a  boy.' 

'I  am  Alice  Heaton.  There,  now,  you  have  my  whole 
secret!'  she  said  with  asperity. 

'Alice  Heaton !'  I  echoed,  quite  confounded  at  the  feminine 
name ;  and  I  reproachfully  asked,  '  If  you  are  a  girl,  say,  what 
do  you  mean  by  coming  into  my  bed,  and  passing  yourself  off 
as  a  boy?' 

She  had  kept  up  bravely  so  far,  but  she  now  answered  me 
with  tears  and  sobs,  and  every  doubt  of  her  sex  vanished, 
while  I  was  in  such  a  medley  of  emotions  that  I  stood  like  one 
utterly  bereft  of  sense,  not  knowing  what  to  do.  Presently, 
she  said,  'Come,  let  us  dress,  and  I  will  tell  you  all  about 
it.' 


no  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

I  lost  no  time  in  doing  what  she  advised  ;  and,  after  taking  a 
turn  or  two  in  the  yard,  returned  to  find  her  ready  for  me. 

Now  that  her  sex  was  revealed,  I  wondered  that  I  had  been 
so  blind  as  not  to  perceive  it  before,  for,  in  every  movement, 
there  was  unmistakeable  femininity.  Alice  made  me  sit  down, 
and  the  substance  of  the  story  she  now  told  me  was  as  follows : 

She  had  been  born  at  Everton,  Liverpool,  and,  since  she  had 
begun  to  walk,  she  had  lived  with  a  severe  old  grandmother, 
who  grew  more  cross  as  she  aged.  From  childhood,  she  had 
known  nothing  but  ill-treatment ;  she  was  scolded  and  slapped 
perpetually.  When  she  was  twelve  years  of  age,  she  began 
to  struggle  with  her  granny,  and,  in  a  short  time,  she  proved 
that  her  strength  was  too  great  to  be  beaten  by  an  infirm 
old  woman  ;  little  by  little,  her  grandmother  desisted  from  the 
attempt,  but  substituted,  instead,  the  nagging  system.  As 
she  approached  her  fourteenth  year,  her  grandmother  de- 
veloped a  parsimony  which  made  her  positively  hateful. 
Every  crust  she  ate  at  the  house  was  begrudged  to  her,  though, 
so  far  as  she  knew,  there  was  no  cause  for  this  pinching  and 
starving.  Her  home  contained  evidences  of  respectability. 
The  furniture  was  abundant  and  of  good  quality,  and  the 
many  curios  in  the  glass  cases  in  the  parlour  showed  that 
her  parents  had  been  in  comfortable  circumstances.  How 
her  grandmother  obtained  her  means  of  living,  Alice  did  not 
know  ;  but,  judging  from  her  dress  and  condition,  her  poverty 
was  not  so  distressing  as  to  be  the  cause  of  such  extreme 
penuriousness. 

During  the  last  five  or  six  months,  as  she  was  getting  on 
to  fifteen,  Alice  had  been  acquainted  with  girlish  neigh- 
bours, and  through  them,  with  some  young  middies  who 
had  just  returned  from  their  voyages.  These  had  delighted 
to  tell  her  friends  of  the  wonders  of  foreign  lands,  and  of  the 
genial  welcome  they  had  met  with  from  their  foreign  friends. 
The  stories  of  their  sea-life,  and  the  pictures  of  America  which 
they  gave,  fascinated  her;  and  she  secretly  resolved  that, 
upon  the  first  violent  outbreak  of  her  grandmother's  tem- 
per, she  would  try  her  fortune  as  a  cabin-boy.  With  this  view, 
every  penny  she  could  scrape,  or  steal,  from  her  grandmother 
she  hoarded,  until,  at  last,  she  had  enough  to  purchase  from 
a  slop-shop  all  she  needed  for  a  disguise.    When  her  grand- 


AT  WORK  in 

mother  finally  broke  out  into  a  bad  fit  of  temper,  and,  pro- 
voked by  her  defiance,  ordered  her  out  of  the  house,  she  was 
ready  for  her  venture.  She  went  to  a  barber's  shop  and  had 
her  hair  cut  close ;  returning  home,  she  dressed  herself  in  boy's 
costume,  and,  with  a  sailor's  bag  on  her  back,  entered  a  board- 
ing-house near  the  docks.  A  few  days  later,  she  had  the  good 
luck  to  be  engaged  as  a  cabin-boy  by  the  captain  of  the  '  Poca- 
hontas,' and,  by  careful  conduct,  escaped  detection  during 
the  voyage,  though  nothing  would  avail  her  to  avoid  the  rope's 
ending  and  cuffing  of  the  steward  and  his  fellow-officers. 

Bv  the  time  she  had  concluded  her  narrative,  it  was  full 
time  for  me  to  depart  to  my  work.  We  hurriedly  agreed  to 
consult  together  about  future  plans  upon  my  return  in  the 
evening,  and  I  left  her  with  an  assurance  that  all  my  means 
and  help  were  at  her  service.  All  that  day  her  extraordinary 
story  occupied  my  mind,  and,  though  she  was  undoubtedly 
an  artful  and  bold  character,  her  uncommon  spirit  compelled 
my  admiration,  while  her  condition  was  such  as  to  compel 
my  sympathy. 

At  the  closing  hour  I  sped  homeward,  but,  on  arriving  at 
Mrs.  Williams's,  I  was  told  Alice  had  not  been  seen  since  the 
early  morning.  I  waited  many  hours,  but  waited  in  vain.  She 
was  never  seen,  or  heard  of,  by  me  again ;  but  I  have  hoped 
ever  since  that  Fate  was  as  propitious  to  her,  as  I  think  it 
was  wise,  in  separating  two  young  and  simple  creatures,  who 
might  have  been  led,  through  excess  of  sentiment,  into  folly. 

The  next  Sabbath  after  the  disappearance  of  Alice,  I  paid 
my  usual  visit  to  Mrs.  Stanley,  and  was  shocked  and  grieved 
to  hear,  from  her  maid,  Margaret,  that  she  was  seriously  ill, 
and  under  medical  treatment.  A  glass  of  ice-water  which  she 
had  taken  on  Friday  had  been  speedily  followed  by  alarming 
symptoms  of  illness.  She  was  now  so  prostrated  by  disease 
that  she  required  constant  attendance.  Margaret's  face  be- 
trayed so  much  fatigue  and  anxiety  that  I  tendered  my  serv- 
ices, and  even  begged  her  to  employ  me  in  any  way.  After 
a  little  hesitation,  she  said  I  might  be  useful  in  enabling  her 
to  take  a  little  rest,  if  I  would  sit  at  the  door,  and,  upon  any 
movement  or  sound  within  the  sick  chamber,  call  her.  I  kept 
my  post  all  through  the  day  and  night,  and,  though  there 
were  frequent  calls  on  Margaret,  her  snatches  of  rest  served  to 


112  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

maintain  her  strength.  As  I  went  off  to  my  labour,  I  promised 
to  solicit  a  few  days'  leave  from  Mr.  Ellison,  and  to  return  to 
her  within  the  hour. 

Mr.  Ellison,  however,  to  whom  I  preferred  my  request  for  a 
few  days'  liberty,  affected  to  regard  me  as  though  I  had  ut- 
tered something  very  outrageous,  and  curtly  told  me  I  '  might 

go  to  the  D ,  if  I  liked,  and  stay  with  him  for  good.'  Such 

an  offensive  reply,  a  few  months  earlier,  would  have  made  me 
shrink  into  myself;  but  the  New  Orleans  atmosphere  ripens 
one's  sense  of  independence  and  personal  dignity,  and  I  replied 
with  something  of  the  spirit  that  I  had  admired  in  Mr.  Kennicy 
and  Mr.  Richardson,  and  said :  — 

1  Very  well,  sir.  You  may  discharge  me  at  once ! '  Of  course, 
to  a  person  of  Mr.  Ellison's  sanguinary  hair  and  complexion, 
the  answer  was  sufficient  to  ensure  my  furious  dismissal  on  the 
instant. 

Margaret  was  greatly  vexed  at  my  action  when  she  heard 
of  it,  but  consoled  me  by  saying  that  a  few  days'  liberty  would 
do  me  no  harm.  My  whole  time  was  now  placed  at  her  dis- 
posal, and  I  had  reason  to  know  that  my  humble  services  were 
a  considerable  relief  and  assistance  to  her  at  this  trying  time. 
Meanwhile,  poor  Mrs.  Stanley  was  becoming  steadily  worse ; 
and,  on  Wednesday  night,  her  case  was  reported  to  be  des- 
perate by  the  physician.  There  was  no  more  sleep  for  any  of 
us  until  the  issue  should  be  decided.  Near  midnight,  Margaret, 
with  a  solemn  and  ghastly  face,  beckoned  me  into  the  sick 
lady's  room.  With  my  heart  throbbing  painfully,  and  expect- 
ing I  know  not  what,  I  entered  on  tiptoe.  I  saw  a  broad  bed, 
curtained  with  white  muslin,  whereon  lay  the  fragile  figure  of 
the  patient,  so  frail  and  delicate  that,  in  my  rude  health,  it 
seemed  insolence  in  me  to  be  near  her.  It  had  been  easy  for 
me  to  speak  of  illness  when  I  knew  so  little  of  what  it  meant ; 
but,  on  regarding  its  ravages,  and  observing  the  operation  of 
death,  I  stood  as  one  petrified. 

Margaret  pushed  me  gently  to  the  bedside,  and  I  saw  by 
the  dim  light  how  awfully  solemn  a  human  face  can  be  when 
in  saintly  peace.  Slowly,  I  understood  how  even  the  most 
timid  woman  could  smilingly  welcome  Death,  and  willingly 
yield  herself  to  its  cold  embrace.  I  had  hitherto  a  stony  belief 
that  those  who  died  had  only  been  conquered  through  a  sheer 


AT  WORK  113 

want  of  will  on  their  part  ('All  men  think  all  men  mortal  but 
themselves'  ^and  that  the  monster,  with  its  horrors  of  cold, 
damp  earth,  and  worms,  needed  only  to  be  defied  to  be  de- 
feated of  its  prey.  While  listening  at  the  door,  I  had  wished 
that,  in  some  way,  I  could  transfuse  a  portion  of  my  fulness 
of  spirit  into  her,  that  she  might  have  the  force  to  resist  the 
foe;  for,  surely,  with  a  little  more  courage,  she  would  not 
abandon  husband,  friends,  and  admirers,  for  the  still  company 
in  the  Churchyard.  But  the  advance  of  Death  was  not  like  that 
of  a  blustering  tyrant.  It  was  imperceptible,  and  inconceivably 
subtle,  beginning  with  a  little  ache  —  like  one  of  many  known 
before.  Before  it  had  declared  its  presence,  it  had  narcotized 
the  faculties,  eased  the  beats  of  the  heart,  lessened  the  flow  of 
blood,  weakened  the  pulse ;  it  had  sent  its  messenger,  Peace, 
before  it,  to  dispel  all  anxieties  and  regrets,  and  to  elevate  the 
soul  with  the  hope  of  Heaven ;  and  then  it  closed  the  valves. 

She  opened  her  mild  eyes,  and  spoke  words  as  from  afar: 
'Be  a  good  boy.  God  bless  you!'  And,  while  I  strained  my 
hearing  for  more,  there  was  an  indistinct  murmur,  the  eyes 
opened  wide  and  became  fixed,  and  a  beautiful  tranquillity 
settled  over  the  features.  How  strangely  serene !  When  I 
turned  to  look  into  Margaret's  eyes,  I  knew  Death  had  come. 

By  a  curious  coincidence,  Captain  Stanley,  her  brother-in- 
law,  arrived  from  Havana  the  next  day,  in  a  brig.  He  knew 
nothing  of  me.  There  was  no  reason  he  should  be  tender  to 
my  feelings,  and  he  intimated  to  me,  with  the  frankness  of  a 
ship's  captain,  that  he  would  take  charge  of  everything.  Even 
Margaret  subsided  before  this  strong  man;  and,  being  very 
miserable,  and  with  a  feeling  of  irretrievable  loss,  I  withdrew, 
after  a  silent  clasp  of  the  hands. 

About  three  days  later  I  received  a  letter  from  Margaret, 
saying  that  the  body  had  been  embalmed,  and  the  casket  had 
been  put  in  lead ;  and  that,  according  to  a  telegram  received 
from  Mr.  Stanley,  she  was  going  up  the  river  to  St.  Louis  with 
it,  by  the  steamer  'Natchez.' 

For  a  period,  I  was  too  forlorn  to  heed  anything  greatly.  I 
either  stayed  at  home,  reading,  or  brooding  over  the  last  scene 
in  Mrs.  Stanley's  chamber,  or  I  wandered  aimlessly  about  the 
levee,  or  crossed  over  to  Algiers,  where  I  sat  on  the  hulks,  and 

1  Young. 


H4  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

watched  the  river  flowing,  with  a  feeling  as  of  a  nightmare  on 
me. 

My  unhappy  experiences  at  Liverpool  had  not  been  without 
their  lessons  of  prudence.  My  only  extravagances  so  far  had 
been  in  the  purchase  of  books ;  and,  even  then,  a  vague  pre- 
sentiment of  want  had  urged  me  to  be  careful,  and  hurry  to 
raise  a  shield  against  the  afflictions  of  the  destitute.  Though 
at  liberty,  there  was  no  fear  that  I  should  abuse  it. 

By  and  by,  the  cloud  lifted  from  my  mind ;  and  I  set  about 
seeking  for  work.  Fortune,  however,  was  not  so  kind  this 
time.  The  Mr.  Stanleys  of  the  world  are  not  numerous.  After 
two  weeks'  diligent  search,  there  was  not  a  vacancy  to  be 
found.  Then  I  lowered  my  expectations,  and  sought  for  work 
of  any  kind.  I  descended  to  odd  jobs,  such  as  the  sawing 
of  wood,  and  building  wood-piles  for  private  families.  The 
quality  of  the  work  mattered  little. 

One  day  there  came  a  mate  to  our  boarding-house,  who  told 
me  that  his  captain  was  ill,  and  required  an  attendant.  I 
offered  myself,  and  was  accepted. 

The  vessel  was  the  '  Dido,'  a  full-sized  brig.  The  captain 
suffered  from  a  bilious  fever,  aggravated  by  dysentery,  from 
drinking  Mississippi  water,  it  was  thought.  He  was  haggard, 
and  yellow  as  saffron.  I  received  my  instructions  from  the 
doctor,  and  committed  them  to  paper  to  prevent  mistakes. 

My  duties  were  light  and  agreeable.  During  the  remission 
of  fever,  the  captain  proved  to  be  a  kindly  and  pious  soul ; 
and  his  long  grey  beard  gave  him  a  patriarchal  appearance, 
and  harmonized  with  his  patient  temper.  For  three  weeks 
we  had  an  anxious  time  over  him,  but,  during  the  fourth,  he 
showed  signs  of  mending,  and  took  the  air  on  the  poop.  He 
became  quite  communicative  with  me,  and  had  extracted 
from  me  mostly  all  that  was  worth  relating  of  my  short  history. 

At  the  end  of  a  month  I  was  relieved  from  my  duties ;  and 
as  I  had  no  desire  to  resume  sea-life,  even  with  so  good  a  man, 
I  was  paid  off  most  handsomely,  with  a  small  sum  as  a  'token 
of  regard.'  As  I  was  about  to  depart,  he  said  some  words 
which,  uttered  with  all  solemnity,  were  impressive.  'Don't 
be  down-hearted  at  this  break  in  the  beginning  of  your  life. 
If  you  will  only  have  patience,  and  continue  in  well-doing, 
your  future  will  be  better  than  you  dream  of.  You  have  un- 


AT  WORK  115 

common  faculties,  and  I  feel  certain  that,  barring  accidents, 
you  will  some  day  be  a  rich  man.  If  I  were  you,  I  would  seek 
your  friend  at  St.  Louis,  and  what  you  cannot  find  in  this  city, 
you  may  find  in  that.  You  deserve  something  better  than  to  be 
doing  odd  jobs.  Good-bye,  and  take  an  old  man's  best  wishes.' 

The  old  captain's  words  were  better  than  his  gold,  for  they 
gave  me  a  healthful  stimulus.  His  gold  was  not  to  be  despised, 
but  his  advice  inspired  me  with  hope,  and  I  lifted  my  head, 
and  fancied  I  saw  clearer  and  further.  All  men  must  pass 
through  the  bondage  of  necessity  before  they  emerge  into  life 
and  liberty.  The  bondage  to  one's  parents  and  guardians  is 
succeeded  by  bondage  to  one's  employers. 

On  the  very  next  day  I  took  a  passage  for  St.  Louis,  by  the 
steamer  'Tuscarora';  and,  by  the  end  of  November,  1859,  I 
reached  that  busy  city.  The  voyage  had  proved  to  me  won- 
derfully educative.  The  grand  pictures  of  enterprise,  activity, 
and  growing  cities  presented  by  the  river  shores  were  likely 
to  remain  with  me  forever.  The  successive  revelations  of 
scenery  and  human  life  under  many  aspects  impressed  me  with 
the  extent  of  the  world.  Mental  exclamations  of  'What  a 
river!'  'What  a  multitude  of  steamers!'  'What  towns,  and 
what  a  people!'  greeted  each  new  phase.  The  intensity  of 
everything  also  surprised  me,  from  the  resistless  and  deep 
river,  the  driving  force  within  the  rushing  boats,  the  gallop- 
ing drays  along  the  levees,  to  the  hurried  pace  of  everybody 
ashore.  On  our  own  steamer  my  nerves  tingled  incessantly  with 
the  sound  of  the  fast-whirling  wheels,  the  energy  of  the  mates, 
and  the  clamour  of  the  hands.  A  feverish  desire  to  join  in  the 
bustle  burned  in  my  veins. 

On  inquiring  at  the  Planters'  Hotel,  I  extracted  from  the 
hotel  clerk  the  news  that  Mr.  Stanley  had  descended  to  New 
Orleans  on  business  a  week  before !  For  about  ten  days  I 
hunted  for  work  along  the  levee,  and  up  and  down  Broadway, 
and  the  principal  streets,  but  without  success;  and,  at  last, 
with  finances  reduced  to  a  very  low  ebb,  the  river,  like  a 
magnet,  drew  me  towards  it.  I  was  by  this  time  shrunk  into 
a  small  compass,  even  to  my  own  perception.  Self-deprecia- 
tion could  scarcely  have  become  lower. 

Wearied  and  disheartened,  I  sat  down  near  a  number  of  flat- 
boats  and  barges,  several  of  which  were  loading,  or  loaded, 


n6  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

with  timber,  boards,  and  staves ;  and  the  talk  of  the  men,  — 
rough-bearded  fellows,  —  about  me,  was  of  oak,  hickory,  pine 
shingles,  scantling,  and  lumber ;  and  I  heard  the  now  familiar 
names  of  Cairo,  Memphis,  and  New  Orleans.  At  the  last 
word,  my  attention  was  aroused,  and  I  discovered  that  one 
of  the  flat-boats  was  just  about  to  descend  the  river  to  that 
port.  Its  crew  were  seated  on  the  lumber,  yarning  light- 
heartedly;  and  their  apparent  indifference  to  care  was  most 
attractive  to  an  outcast.  I  stole  nearer  to  them,  found  out  the 
boss,  and,  after  a  while,  offered  to  work  my  passage  down 
the  river.  Something  in  me  must  have  excited  his  rough 
sympathy,  for  he  was  much  kinder  than  might  have  been 
expected  from  his  rough  exterior.  I  had  long  since  learned 
that  the  ordinary  American  was  a  curious  compound  of 
gentleman  and  navvy.  His  garb  and  speech  might  be  rough, 
his  face  and  hands  soiled,  beard  and  hair  unkempt,  but  the 
bearing  was  sure  to  be  free,  natural,  and  grand,  and  his  senti- 
ments becoming ;  the  sense  of  manly  dignity  was  never  absent, 
and  his  manners  corresponded  with  his  situation.  My  sen-ices 
were  accepted,  not  without  receiving  a  hint  that  loafing  could 
not  be  tolerated  aboard  a  fiat-boat.  Being  the  youngest  on 
board,  I  was  to  be  a  general  helper,  assist  the  cook,  and  fly 
about  where  wanted.  But  what  a  joy  to  the  workless  is  occu- 
pation !  Independence  may  be  a  desirable  thing,  but  the  brief 
taste  I  had  had  of  it  had,  by  this,  completely  sickened  me. 
We  cast  off  at  day-break,  and  committed  our  huge  un- 
wieldy boat  to  the  current  of  the  Mississippi,  using  our 
sweeps  occasionally  to  keep  her  in  the  middle.  For  the  most 
part  it  seemed  to  me  a  lazy  life.  The  physical  labours  were 
almost  nil,  though,  now  and  then,  all  hands  were  called  to 
exert  their  full  strength,  and  the  shouting  and  swearing  were 
terrific.  When  the  excitement  was  passed,  we  subsided  into 
quietude,  smoking,  sleeping,  and  yarning.  A  rude  galley  had 
been  set  up  temporarily  for  the  cook's  convenience,  and  a 
sail  was  stretched  over  the  middle  of  the  boat  as  a  shelter  from 
the  sun  and  rain.  There  were  eleven  of  us  altogether,  includ- 
ing myself.  My  promiscuous  duties  kept  me  pretty  busy.  I 
had  to  peel  potatoes,  stir  mush,  carry  water,  wash  tin  pans, 
and  scour  the  plates,  and  on  occasions  lend  my  strength  at 
pulling  one  of  the  tremendously  long  oars. 


AT  WORK  117 

No  special  incident  occurred  during  the  long  and  tedious 
voyage.  Once  we  narrowly  escaped  being  run  down  by  the 
'Empress'  steamer,  and  we  had  a  lively  time  of  it,  the  angry 
men  relieving  themselves  freely  of  threats  and  oaths.  Steam- 
ers passed  us  every  day.  Sometimes  a  pair  of  them  raced 
madly  side  by  side,  or  along  opposite  banks,  while  their 
furnaces,  fed  by  pitch-pine,  discharged  rolling  volumes  of 
thick  smoke,  which  betrayed,  for  hours  after  they  had  dis- 
appeared from  view,  the  course  they  had  taken.  The  water 
would  splash  up  the  sides  of  our  boat,  and  the  yellow  river 
would  part  into  alarming  gulfs  on  either  hand.  At  large 
towns,  such  as  Cairo,  Memphis,  Vicksburg,  and  Natchez,  we 
made  fast  to  the  shore ;  and,  while  the  caterer  of  the  mess  took 
me  with  him  to  make  his  purchases  of  fresh  provisions,  the 
crew  sought  congenial  haunts  by  the  river-side  for  a  mild  dis- 
sipation. By  the  end  of  the  month,  our  voyage  terminated  at 
some  stave  and  lumber-yards  between  Carrolltown  and  New 
Orleans. 

On  the  whole,  the  flat-boatmen  had  been  singularly  decent 
in  their  behaviour.  Their  coarseness  was  not  disproportionate 
to  their  circumstances,  or  what  might  be  expected  from  wage- 
earners  of  their  class;  but  what  impressed  me  most  was  the 
vast  amount  of  good  feeling  they  exhibited.  There  had  been 
a  few  exciting  tussles,  and  some  sharp  exchanges  of  bellicose 
talk  between  the  principals,  but  their  bitterness  vanished  in 
a  short  time,  while,  towards  myself,  they  were  more  like  pro- 
tectors than  employers.  Nevertheless,  a  few  painful  truths 
had  been  forced  on  my  notice;  I  had  also  gained  valuable 
experience  of  the  humours  of  rivers.  The  fluvial  moods  had 
considerably  interested  me.  The  play  of  currents,  eddies,  and 
whirlpools  afforded  inexhaustible  matter  for  observation. 
The  varying  aspects  of  the  stream  in  calm  and  storm,  when 
deep  or  shallow,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  snags,  sandbars,  and 
spits,  reflecting  sunshine  or  leaden  sky,  were  instructive,  and 
the  veteran  flat-boatmen  were  not  averse  to  satisfying  my 
inquisitiveness.  Being  naturally  studious  and  reflective,  I 
carried  away  with  me  far  more  than  I  could  rehearse  of  what 
was  of  practical  value ;  but,  boy-like,  I  relegated  my  impres- 
sions to  memory,  where,  in  process  of  time,  they  could  be 
solidified  into  knowledge. 


CHAPTER  V 
I   FIND  A  FATHER 

AFTER  tying  up,  I  was  at  liberty  to  renovate  my  person. 
My  shore-clothes  restored  me  to  the  semblance  of 
my  former  self,  and,  with  many  a  protest  of  good-will 
from  my  late  companions,  I  walked  towards  the  city.  In  a 
few  hours  I  reached  St.  Charles  Street,  and,  as  though  wearied 
with  its  persecution  of  me,  Fortune  brought  me  into  the 
presence  of  Mr.  Stanley.  His  reception  of  me  was  so  paternal 
that  the  prodigal  son  could  not  have  been  more  delighted. 
My  absence  from  New  Orleans  had  but  intensified  my  affec- 
tion for  the  only  friend  I  seemed  to  possess  in  all  America. 
Once  out  of  his  presence,  I  felt  as  a  stranger  among  strangers ; 
on  re-entering  it,  I  became  changed  outwardly  and  inwardly. 
Away  from  him,  I  was  at  once  shy,  silent,  morosely  severe ; 
with  him,  I  was  exuberantly  glad,  and  chatted  freely,  without 
fear  of  repulse.  Since  we  had  parted,  I  had  met  some  thou- 
sands, and  spoken  with  a  few  hundreds ;  but  no  one  had  kin- 
dled in  me  the  least  spark  of  personal  interest.  It  may,  then, 
be  understood  how  my  greeting  expressed  my  sense  of  his  pre- 
eminence and  rarity. 

Between  the  last  sentence  and  what  follows,  there  should 
be  an  interval  represented  by  many  *  *  *  *  *  *  j  ^Q  not 
know  how  it  came  about,  but  I  was  suddenly  fixed  immov- 
ably, for  a  period.  Preoccupied  with  my  bursting  gladness, 
I  had  observed  nothing  but  our  mutual  gratification;  and 
then  I  had  poured  my  tale  of  woes  unchecked,  except  by  an 
expression  of  sympathy,  now  and  again,  from  him.  But,  pre- 
sently, after  some  commonplaces,  his  words  sounded  a  deeper 
note,  and  stirred  my  innermost  being.  A  peculiar  sensation 
—  as  though  the  wind  of  a  strong  breathing  was  flowing  down 
my  back,  and  ran  up  with  a  refluent  motion  to  the  head, 
blowing  each  hair  apart  —  came  over  me,  and  held  me  spell- 
bound and  thrilled  to  the  soul.    He  was  saying,  with  some 


I   FIND  A  FATHER  119 

emotion,  that  my  future  should  be  his  charge  !  He  had  been  so 
powerfully  affected  by  what  Margaret  had  told  him,  with  all 
the  warmth  of  her  Irish  nature,  of  the  last  scene  at  the  death- 
bed of  his  wife,  that  he  had  been  unable  to  dissociate  me  from 
his  thoughts  of  her ;  he  had  wondered  what  I  was  doing,  what 
had  become  of  me,  imagined  that  I  was  starving,  and,  know- 
ing how  friendless  and  unsophisticated  I  was,  each  conjecture 
had  been  dismal  and  pitiful ;  and  he  had  resolved,  on  reach- 
ing New  Orleans,  to  make  diligent  search  for  me,  and  take  me 
to  himself.  While  he  related  his  extraordinary  intentions,  it 
seemed  to  me  as  if  my  spirit  was  casting  an  interested  regard 
upon  my  own  image,  and  was  glorying  in  the  wonderful  trans- 
formation that  was  taking  place.  To  think  that  any  man 
should  be  weaving  such  generous  designs  upon  a  person  so 
unworthy  and  insignificant  as  myself,  and  plotting  a  felicitous 
future  for  me,  nursed  in  contumely  and  misery,  seemed  to  me 
to  be  too  wonderful  for  belief !  Then,  again,  there  was  a  cer- 
tain mysterious  coincidence  about  it  which  awed  me.  In  my 
earliest  dreams  and  fancies,  I  had  often  imagined  what  kind 
of  a  boy  I  should  be  with  a  father  or  mother.  What  ecstasy 
it  would  be  if  my  parent  came  to  me,  to  offer  a  parent's  love, 
as  I  had  enviously  seen  it  bestowed  on  other  children.  In 
my  secret  prayers,  something  of  a  wish  of  this  kind  had  been 
behind  the  form  of  words ;  and  now,  as  an  answer  from  the 
Invisible,  came  this  astounding  revelation  of  His  power !  He 
had  cast  a  little  leaven  of  kindness  into  the  heart  of  a  good 
man.  From  the  very  first  encounter,  it  had  acted  beneficially 
for  me ;  and  now  it  had  leavened  his  whole  nature,  until  it  had 
become  a  fatherly  affection,  which  would  shield  my  youth 
from  trial  and  temptation,  and  show  me  the  best  side  of 
human  nature! 

Before  I  could  quite  grasp  all  that  this  declaration  meant 
for  me,  he  had  risen,  taken  me  by  the  hand,  and  folded  me  in 
a  gentle  embrace.  My  senses  seemed  to  whirl  about  for  a 
few  half-minutes:  and,  finally,  I  broke  down,  sobbing  from 
extreme  emotion.  It  was  the  only  tender  action  I  had  ever 
known,  and,  what  no  amount  of  cruelty  could  have  forced 
from  me,  tears  poured  in  a  torrent  under  the  influence  of  the 
simple  embrace. 

The  golden  period  of  my  life  began  from  that  supreme 


I20  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

moment!  As  I  glance  back  at  it  from  the  present  time,  it 
seems  more  like  a  dream,  as  unreal  as  a  vision  of  the  night. 
Compared  with  these  matter-of-fact  days,  or  the  ruthless 
past,  it  was  like  a  masquerade  among  goodly  felicities  and 
homely  affections,  and  its  happy  experiences  have  been  too 
precious  and  sacred  for  common  chat,  though  they  have 
lain  near  enough  for  the  fitting  occasion,  moulded  and  ready 
for  utterance.  They  have  formed  my  best  memories,  and  fur- 
nished me  with  an  unfading  store  of  reflections,  and,  prob- 
ably, have  had  more  influence  than  any  other  upon  my  con- 
duct and  manners.  For,  to  be  lifted  out  of  the  depths  of 
friendlessness  and  destitution  to  a  paternal  refuge,  and  made 
the  object  of  care  and  solicitude  so  suddenly,  at  a  time,  too, 
when  I  was  most  impressionable,  without  an  effort  on  my  own 
part,  and  without  an  advocate,  bordered  on  the  miraculous. 
Predisposed  to  inward  communing,  with  a  strong  but  secret 
faith  in  Providence,  I  regarded  it  as  principally  the  result  of  a 
Divine  interposition,  the  course  of  which  was  a  mystery  not 
to  be  lightly  talked  of,  but  to  be  remembered  for  its  signifi- 
cance. 

After  a  restful  night,  and  when  breakfast  had  been  de- 
spatched, we  adjourned  to  a  room  used  as  an  office  and  sitting 
apartment,  and  there  I  was  subjected  to  a  sympathetic  cross- 
examination.  Every  incident  of  my  life,  even  to  the  fancies 
that  had  fled  across  the  mind  of  callow  boyhood,  was  elicited 
with  the  assistance  of  his  searching  questions,  and  then  I  was, 
as  it  were,  turned  completely  inside  out.  Mr.  Stanley  said 
that  what  I  had  told  him  only  bore  out  the  conclusion  he  had 
long  before  arrived  at  concerning  me.  He  had  suspected  that 
I  was  an  orphan,  or  one  who  had  been  flatly  disowned,  and  a 
waif  exposed  to  every  wind  of  Chance ;  and  he  was  glad  that 
it  had  deposited  me  in  his  keeping.  He  expressed  amazement 
that  helpless  children  were  treated  so  unfeelingly  in  England, 
and  marvelled  that  no  one  cared  to  claim  them.  Being  a 
childless  man,  he  and  his  wife  had  often  prayed  for  the  bless- 
ing of  offspring,  until  they  were  wearied  with  desiring  and 
expecting.  Then  they  had  gone  to  the  Faubourg  St.  Mary, 
and  had  visited  the  Infant  Asylum,  with  the  view  of  adopting 
some  unclaimed  child;  but  they  had  made  no  choice,  from 
over-fastidiousness.    It  much  surprised  him  that  none  of  my 


I   FIND  A   FATHER  121 

relations  had  discovered  in  me  what  had  struck  him  and 
Speake.  Had  he  searched  New  Orleans  all  through,  he  said, 
he  could  not  have  found  one  who  would  have  shared  his  views 
respecting  me  with  more  sympathy  than  his  friend ;  and,  had 
Mr.  Speake  lived,  he  added,  I  should  have  been  as  good  as 
established  for  life.  Mr.  Speake  had  written  his  estimates  of 
my  character  often,  and,  in  one  letter,  had  predicted  that  I 
was  cut  out  for  a  great  merchant,  who  would  eventually  be 
an  honour  to  the  city.  Mr.  Kitchen,  the  book-keeper,  had 
also  professed  to  be  impressed  with  my  qualities ;  while  young 
Richardson  had  said  I  was  a  prodigy  of  activity  and  quick 
grasp  of  business. 

Then,  at  some  length,  he  related  the  circumstances  which 
had  induced  him  to  take  a  warmer  interest  in  me.  He  had 
often  thought  of  the  start  I  had  given  him  by  the  question, 
'  Do  you  want  a  boy,  sir?'  It  seemed  to  voice  his  own  life-long 
wish.  But  he  thought  I  was  too  big  for  his  purpose.  For  the 
sake,  however,  of  the  long-desired  child,  he  determined  to  do 
the  best  he  could  for  me,  and  had  obtained  my  engagement 
with  his  friend  Speake.  When  he  had  gone  home,  his  wife  had 
been  much  interested  in  the  adventure  with  me,  and  had 
often  asked  how  his  'protege'  was  getting  on?  When  she 
had,  finally,  seen  me,  she  had  said  something  to  him  which 
had  given  a  new  turn  to  his  thoughts ;  but,  as  I  was  already 
established,  and  was  likely  to  succeed,  he  had  ceased  thinking 
about  it.  On  Margaret's  arrival  at  St.  Louis  with  his  wife's 
remains,  she  had  been  so  eloquent  in  all  the  details  of  what 
had  occurred,  that  he  inwardly  resolved  that  his  first  object 
on  reaching  the  city  should  be  to  seek  me  and  undertake  what 
God  had  pointed  out  to  him ;  namely,  to  educate  me  for  the 
business  of  life,  and  be  to  me  what  my  father  should  have 
been.  'The  long  and  the  short  of  it  is,'  said  he,  'as  you  are 
wholly  unclaimed,  without  a  parent,  relation,  or  sponsor,  I 
promise  to  take  you  for  my  son,  and  fit  you  for  a  mercantile 
career;  and,  in  future,  you  are  to  bear  my  name,  "Henry 
Stanley."  Having  said  which,  he  rose,  and,  dipping  his  hands 
in  a  basin  of  water,  he  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  my  fore- 
head, and  went  seriously  through  the  formula  of  baptism,  end- 
ing with  a  brief  exhortation  to  bear  my  new  name  worthily. 

In  answer,  as  it  might  seem,  to  the  least  shade  of  doubt  on 


122  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

my  face,  which  he  thought  he  observed,  he  gave  me  a  brief 
summary  of  his  own  life,  from  which  I  learned  that  he  had 
not  always  been  a  merchant.  He  told  me  that  he  had  been 
educated  for  the  ministry,  and  had  been  ordained,  and  for 
two  years  had  preached  in  various  places  between  Nashville 
and  Savannah ;  but,  finally,  becoming  lukewarm,  he  had  lost 
his  original  enthusiasm  for  his  profession,  and  had  turned  his 
attention  to  commerce.  Intimacy  with  men  of  business,  and 
social  life,  had  led  him  by  degrees  to  consider  himself  unfitted 
for  a  calling  which  seemed  to  confine  his  natural  activities; 
but,  though  he  had  lost  the  desire  to  expound  the  Christian 
faith  from  the  pulpit,  he  had  not  lost  his  principles.  The 
greater  gains  of  commerce  had  seemed  to  him  to  be  more 
attractive  than  the  work  of  persuading  men  and  women  to 
be  devout.  After  one  or  two  unsuccessful  essays  as  a  store- 
keeper, he  had  finally  adopted  a  commission  business,  and 
had  succeeded  in  several  profitable  ventures.  He  thought 
that,  in  a  few  years,  he  would  return  to  the  store  business, 
and  settle  in  'one  of  the  back-country  places'  for  which  he  had 
a  great  hankering ;  but,  at  present,  he  could  not  make  up  his 
mind  to  terminate  his  city  connections.  Much  else  he  related 
to  me,  for  it  was  a  day  of  revelations ;  but  to  me,  personally, 
it  mattered  little  —  it  was  quite  sufficient  that  he  was  he, 
my  first,  best  friend,  my  benefactor,  my  father! 

Only  the  close  student  of  the  previous  pages  could  com- 
pass my  feelings  at  finding  the  one  secret  wish  of  my  heart 
gratified  so  unexpectedly.  To  have  an  unbreathed,  unformed 
wish  plucked  out  of  the  silence,  and  fashioned  into  a  fact  as 
real  as  though  my  dead  father  had  been  restored  to  life  and 
claimed  me,  was  a  marvel  so  great  that  I  seemed  to  be  divided 
into  two  individuals  —  one  strenuously  denying  that  such  a 
thing  could  be,  and  the  other  arraying  all  the  proofs  of  the 
fact.  It  was  even  more  of  a  wonder  than  that  Dick  the  boy 
should  be  transformed  into  Alice  the  girl !  But  when  hour  after 
hour  passed,  and  each  brought  its  substantial  evidence  of  the 
change,  the  disturbed  faculties  gradually  returned  to  their 
normal  level,  though  now  more  susceptible  to  happiness  than 
when  existence  was  one  series  of  mortifications. 

As  we  walked  the  streets  together,  many  a  citizen  must 
have  guessed  by  my  glowing  face  and  shining  eyes  that  I  was 


I   FIND  A  FATHER  123 

brimful  of  joy.  I  began  to  see  a  new  beauty  in  everything. 
The  men  seemed  pleasanter,  the  women  more  gracious,  the 
atmosphere  more  balmy !  It  was  only  by  severe  suppression 
that  I  was  able  to  restrain  myself  from  immoderate  behaviour, 
and  breaking  out  into  hysteric  and  unseemly  ebullience.  A 
gush  of  animal  enjoyment  in  life,  from  this  date,  would  some- 
times overtake  me,  and  send  me  through  the  streets  at  the  rate 
of  a  professional  pedestrian.  I  would  open  my  mouth  and 
drink  the  air,  with  deep  disdain  for  all  physical  weakness.  I 
had  to  restrain  the  electrical  vitality,  lest  the  mad  humour 
for  leaping  over  a  dray  or  cart  might  awaken  the  suspicion 
of  the  policeman.  On  such  days,  and  during  such  fits,  it  was 
indeed  joy  to  be  alive,  —  'but  to  be  young  was  very  Heaven/ 
Most  of  the  day  was  spent  in  equipping  me  for  the  new 
position  I  was  to  assume.  I  was  sumptuously  furnished  with 
stylish  suits,  new  linen,  collars,  flannels,  low-quarter  shoes, 
and  kip  '  boots :  toilet  articles  to  which  I  was  an  utter  stranger, 
such  as  tooth-  and  nail-brushes,  and  long  white  shirts,  re- 
sembling girls'  frocks,  for  night-dresses.  It  had  never  entered 
my  head,  before,  that  teeth  should  be  brushed,  or  that  a  nail- 
brush was  indispensable,  or  that  a  night-dress  contributed  to 
health  and  comfort!  When  we  returned  to  Mr.  Stanley's 
boarding-house,  we  had  a  pleasant  time  in  the  arrangement 
of  the  piles  of  new  garments  and  accessories,  and  in  practising 
the  first  lessons  in  the  art  of  personal  decoration.  In  Wales 
the  inhabitants  considered  it  unbecoming  in  one  who  aspired 
to  manliness  to  ape  the  finicky  niceties  of  women,  and  to  be  too 
regardful  of  one's  personal  appearance;  and  had  they  heard 
my  new  father  descant  so  learnedly  on  the  uses  of  tooth-  and 
nail-brushes,  I  feel  sure  they  would  have  turned  away  with 
grimaces  and  shrugs  of  dissatisfaction.  What  would  stern 
Aunt  Mary  have  said,  had  she  viewed  this  store  of  clothing 
and  linen  that  was  destined  for  the  use  of  a  boy  whom,  atone 
time,  she  had  seriously  meditated  indenturing  to  a  cobbler? 
But,  previous  to  the  assumption  of  my  new  habiliments,  I 
was  conducted  to  a  long  bath,  set  in  a  frame  of  dark  wood, 
and,  while  looking  at  it,  and  wondering  at  its  splendour,  I 
heard  so  many  virtues  ascribed  to  its  daily  use  that  I  con- 
tracted quite  a  love  for  it,  and  vowed  to  myself  that  since  it 

1  A  special  kind  of  leather. 


124  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

appeared  to  be  a  panacea  for  so  many  ills,  all  that  scented 
soap  and  scrubbing  could  effect  would  be  gladly  tested  by  me. 

I  steeped  myself  that  afternoon,  as  though  I  would  wash 
out  the  stains  ugly  poverty  and  misery  had  impressed  upon 
my  person  since  infancy;  and,  when  I  emerged  out  of  the 
bath,  my  self-esteem  was  as  great  as  befitted  the  name  and 
character  I  was  hereafter  to  assume.  But  there  was  much  to 
improve  inwardly  as  well  as  outwardly.  The  odium  attached 
to  the  old  name,  and  its  dolorous  history,  as  it  affected  my 
sense  of  it,  could  not  be  removed  by  water,  but  by  diligent 
application  to  a  moral  renovation,  and  making  use  of  the  new 
life,  with  the  serious  intent  to  hold  the  highest  ideal  I  knew 
of,  as  my  exemplar.  To  aid  me  in  my  endeavours,  my 
new  father  was  gentleness  itself.  At  first,  he  made  no  great 
demand  on  me ;  but  our  intercourse  was  permitted  to  grow 
to  that  familiar  intimacy  which  inspired  perfect  confidence. 
There  was  no  fear  that  I  could  ever  be  contemptuous  or  dis- 
respectful ;  but,  had  he  not  allowed  a  certain  time  for  familiar- 
ising me  with  his  presence  and  position  towards  me.  I  might 
not  have  been  able  to  overcome  a  natural  timidity  which 
would  have  ill-suited  our  connection.  When  I  had  learned  to 
touch  him  without  warning,  and  yet  receive  a  genial  welcome, 
laugh  in  his  presence  unchecked,  and  even  comb  his  beard 
with  my  fingers,  then  I  came  completely  out  of  my  shell ;  and, 
after  that,  development  was  rapid. 

1  Boys  should  be  seen,  and  not  heard,'  had  been  so  frequently 
uttered  before  me  that  I  had  grown  abashed  at  the  sound  of 
an  adult's  voice.  The  rule  was  now  agreeably  reversed.  I 
was  encouraged  to  speak  upon  every  occasion,  and  to  utter 
my  opinions  regardless  of  age  and  sex.  No  incident  occurred, 
and  no  subject  was  mentioned,  that  I  was  not  invited  to  say 
what  I  thought  of  it. 

Apart  from  commercial  and  cognate  details,  I  think  my 
ripening  understanding  was  made  more  manifest  in  anything 
relating  to  human  intercourse  and  human  nature,  owing, 
probably,  to  the  greater  efforts  made  by  my  father  to  assist  me 
in  recovering  lost  ground.  Boys  bred  up  at  home  pick  up,  in- 
stinctively, the  ways  and  manners  prevailing  there.  I  had 
had  no  home,  and  therefore  I  was  singularly  deficient  in  the 
little  graces  of  home  life.   Unconsciously  to  myself,  from  the 


I   FIND  A  FATHER  125 

moment  I  had  stepped  out  of  the  bath-room  in  my  new  gar- 
ments, I  began  that  elementary  education  which  was  to  render 
me  fit  to  be  seen  by  the  side  of  a  respectable  man.  I  had  to  lose 
the  fear  of  men  and  women,  to  know  how  to  face  them  without 
bashfulness  or  awkwardness,  to  commune  with  them  without 
slavish  deference,  to  bear  myself  without  restraint,  and  to 
earn7  myself  with  the  freedom  which  I  saw  in  others ;  in  a 
word,  I  had  to  learn  the  art  of  assimilating  the  manner,  feeling, 
and  expression  of  those  around  me.  Being  attentive  and  in- 
telligent, acute  of  hearing,  quick  of  eye-sight,  and  with  a  good 
memory,  I  had  gained  immensely  in  my  father's  estimation, 
and  he  was,  to  me,  a  sufficient  judge. 

Our  wanderings  from  city  to  city,  steamer  to  steamer,  and 
store  to  store,  which  the  business  of  my  father  necessitated,  I 
do  not  propose  to  dwell  upon ;  in  fact,  it  would  be  impossible 
to  contain  within  a  volume  all  that  I  remember  of  this,  and 
subsequent  periods.  I  am  more  concerned  with  the  personal 
element,  the  cardinal  incidents,  and  the  tracing  of  my  growth 
to  maturity.  Besides,  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi  and  its 
lower  tributaries  have  little  to  recommend  them  to  a  youngster 
after  the  first  expressive  Oh!  of  admiration.  The  planters' 
mansions,  the  settlements,  and  cities,  are  mainly  of  uniform 
colour  and  style  of  architecture.  When  we  have  seen  one 
mansion,  settlement,  or  city,  we  seem  to  have  seen  all.  One 
river-bank  is  like  the  other.  The  houses  are  either  of  wood 
with  a  verandah,  and  painted,  or  of  red  brick;  there  is  a 
church  spire  here,  and,  there,  a  mass  of  buildings;  but  pre- 
sently, after  a  second  view,  there  is  as  little  of  lasting  interest 
as  in  the  monotonous  shores  of  the  great  river.  I  only  record 
such  incidents  as  affected  me,  and  such  as  clearly  stand  out 
conspicuously  in  the  retrospect,  which  have  been  not  only  a 
delight  to  memory,  but  which  I  am  incapable  of  forgetting. 

During  nearly  two  years,  we  travelled  several  times  between 
New  Orleans,  St.  Louis,  Cincinnati,  and  Louisville;  but  most 
of  our  time  was  spent  on  the  lower  Mississippi  tributaries,  and 
on  the  shores  of  the  Washita,  Saline,  and  Arkansas  Rivers, 
as  the  more  profitable  commissions  were  gained  in  dealings 
with  country  merchants  between  Harrisonburg  and  Arka- 
delphia,  and  between  Napoleon  and  Little  Rock.  From  these 
business  tours  I  acquired  a  better  geographical  knowledge 


126  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

than  any  amount  of  school-teaching  would  have  given  me; 
and  at  one  time  I  was  profound  in  the  statistics  relating  to 
population,  commerce,  and  navigation  of  the  Southern  and 
South-Western  States.  Just  as  Macaulay  was  said  to  be  re- 
markable for  being  able  to  know  a  book  from  beginning  to  end 
by  merely  turning  over  its  pages,  I  was  considered  a  prodigy 
by  my  father  and  his  intimate  friends  for  the  way  names  and 
faces  clung  to  my  memory.  I  could  tell  the  name  of  every 
steamer  we  had  passed,  the  characteristics  of  her  structure, 
and  every  type  of  man  we  met.  A  thing  viewed,  or  a  subject 
discussed  likely  to  be  useful,  became  impressed  indelibly  on 
the  mind.  Probably  this  mental  acquisitiveness  was  stimu- 
lated by  the  idea  that  it  formed  the  equipment  of  a  merchant, 
which  I  believed  it  was  my  ultimate  destiny  to  be ;  and  that 
every  living  man  should  be  a  living  gazetteer,  and  possess 
facts  and  figures  at  his  fingers'  ends.  Meantime,  my  memory 
was  frequently  of  great  use  to  my  father  as  an  auxiliary  to  his 
memorandum-book  of  shipments,  purchases,  and  sales.  Once 
having  seen  the  page,  I  could  repeat  its  record  with  confidence ; 
and  I  was  often  rewarded  by  his  admiring  exclamation,  'Well, 
I  never  heard  the  like!  It  is  perfectly  astonishing  how  you 
remember  details,'  etc.  But,  though  eyes  and  ears  and  techni- 
cal memory  were  well  exercised,  it  was  some  time  before  judge- 
ment was  formed.  Understanding  wras  slow.  It  took  long  for 
me  to  perceive  wherein  lay  the  superiority  of  one  sugar  over 
another,  or  why  one  grade  of  flour  fetched  a  higher  price  than 
another,  or  wherein  Bourbon  whiskey  was  superior  to  rye,  and 
to  distinguish  the  varying  merits  of  coffees,  teas,  etc.  What 
a  man  said,  or  how  he  looked,  his  dress,  appearance,  and  so  on, 
were  ineffaceable;  but  the  unwritten,  or  untold,  regarding 
him  was  a  blank  to  me;  and  when  I  heard  comments  from 
bystanders  upon  the  nature  of  some  person,  I  used  to  wonder 
how  they  formed  their  opinions.  However,  the  effect  of  these 
criticisms  upon  men  and  their  manners  was  to  inspire  me  with 
a  desire  to  penetrate  beneath,  and  to  school  myself  in  com- 
paring different  people.  I  had  abundance  of  opportunities,  in 
the  multitudes  we  met  in  the  crowded  steamers,  and  the  many 
towns  we  visited ;  but  that  which  would  have  given  the  key 
to  the  mystery  was  wanting,  viz.,  personal  intercourse.  In 
the  absence  of  direct  conversation  and  dealings  with  people, 


I  FIND  A  FATHER  127 

it  was  difficult  to  discover  the  nature  of  a  spirit  lurking  under 
a  fair  outside. 

When  we  left  New  Orleans,  at  the  end  of  1859,  we  had 
brought  with  us  a  portmanteau  packed  with  choice  literature, 
and  I  was  given  to  understand  that  the  histories  of  Rome, 
Greece,  and  America,  poetry  and  drama,  were  especially  for 
my  use,  and  that  I  was  to  pursue  my  studies  as  diligently  as 
at  a  school.  The  practice  of  travel  enabled  my  father  to  dis- 
pose himself  comfortably  for  the  indulgence  of  reading,  within 
a  very  short  time  after  reaching  his  cabin.  He  acted  as  one 
who  had  only  changed  his  room,  and  was  only  concerned  with 
his  own  business.  With  such  a  man,  a  river- voyage  was  no 
impediment  to  instruction.  He  set  me  an  example  of  appli- 
cation to  my  book,  which,  added  to  my  own  love  of  study, 
enabled  me  to  cultivate  indifference  to  what  was  passing 
outside  of  our  cabin.  Our  travelling  library  was  constantly 
replenished  at  the  large  cities,  with  essays,  memoirs,  biogra- 
phies, and  general  literature ;  but  novels  and  romances  were 
rigidly  excluded. 

He  first  taught  me  how  a  book  should  be  read  aloud,  and,  in 
a  few  seconds,  had  corrected  a  sing-song  intonation  which  was 
annoying  to  him.  He  said  that  one  could  almost  tell  whether 
a  reader  understood  his  author  by  the  tone  of  his  delivery; 
and,  taking  up  a  Shakespeare,  he  illustrated  it  by  reading, 
'Who  steals  my  purse  steals  trash,'  etc.;  and  the  various 
styles  he  adopted  were  well  calculated  to  enforce  his  lesson. 
From  the  monotone  I  was  unable  to  see  any  beauty  or  point 
in  the  quotation ;  but,  when  he  assumed  the  tone  of  the  moral- 
ist, the  lines  certainly  set  me  thinking,  and  the  truth  of  the 
sentiments  appeared  so  clear  that  I  was  never  able  to  forget 
the  quotation. 

Sometimes,  also,  when  reading  aloud  a  page  of  history,  I 
would  come  to  a  dull  paragraph,  and  my  attention  would 
flag ;  but  he  was  quick  to  detect  this,  and  would  compel  me  to 
begin  again,  because  he  was  sure  that  I  knew  not  what  I  had 
been  reading.  I  merely  note  this  because  during  two  years  we 
read  together  a  large  number  of  books ;  and,  as  I  had  the  benefit 
of  his  disquisitions  and  comments  on  my  reading,  it  will  be 
seen  that  with  such  a  companion  these  river-voyages  con- 
siderably advanced  my  education,  as  much  so,  indeed,    as 


128  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

though  I  had  been  with  a  tutor.  Nor,  when  we  dropped  our 
books,  and  promenaded  the  deck,  was  my  mind  left  to  stag- 
nate in  frivolity.  He  took  advantage  of  every  object  worthy 
of  notice  to  impress  on  me  some  useful,  or  moral  lesson,  —  to 
warn  me  against  errors  of  omission,  or  commission. 

Whatever  it  may  have  been  in  my  personal  appearance 
that  first  attracted  him  to  me,  it  is  certain  that  the  continued 
affection  he  always  showed  towards  me  was  secured  by  my 
zealous  efforts  always  to  follow  his  slightest  suggestion.  I 
think  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  have  found  a  boy  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  Mississippi  who  observed  his  parent's 
wishes  with  a  more  scrupulous  exactitude  than  I  did  those  of 
my  adopted  father.  As  I  came  to  have  an  entire  knowledge  of 
him,  I  knew  not  which  to  admire  most,  the  unvarying,  affec- 
tionate interest  he  showed  in  my  personal  welfare,  or  his 
merits  as  a  man  and  moral  guardian.  Being  of  original  ideas, 
acute  mind,  and  impressive  in  speech,  the  matter  of  his  con- 
versation glued  itself  into  my  memory,  and  stirred  me  to 
thought. 

I  remember  well  when,  one  day,  he  revealed  something  of 
the  method  he  proposed  to  follow  with  me  for  the  perfecting 
of  my  commercial  education,  I  expressed  a  doubt  as  to  whether, 
after  all  his  trouble  and  care,  I  would  ever  come  up  to  his 
expectations.  I  said  that  as  to  carrying  out  plain  instructions 
with  all  good-will  there  need  be  no  fear  —  I  loved  work,  and 
the  approbation  given  to  fidelity  and  industry ;  but,  when  I 
contemplated  being  left  to  my  own  judgement,  I  felt  strong 
misgivings.  How  admirably  he  interpreted  my  thoughts,  ex- 
plained my  doubts !  He  infused  me  with  such  confidence  that, 
had  a  store  been  given  me  there  and  then,  I  should  have  in- 
stantly accepted  its  management!  'But,'  he  said,  'I  am  not 
going  to  part  with  you  yet.  You  have  much  to  learn.  You 
are  a  baby  in  some  things  yet,  because  you  have  been  only 
a  few  months  in  the  world.  By  the  time  I  have  wound  up 
matters,  you  will  have  learned  thousands  of  little  trifles,  and 
will  be  so  grounded  in  solid  knowledge  that  you  may  safely 
be  trusted  under  another  merchant  to  learn  the  minutiae  of 
business,  and  so  get  ready  to  keep  store  with  me.' 

I  suggested  to  him  that  I  laboured  under  disadvantages 
such  as  hampered  very  few  other  boys,  which  would  act  as  a 


I    FIND   A   FATHER  129 

clo^  on  the  free  exercise  of  my  abilities,  and  that,  even  if  other 
people  refrained  from  alluding  to  my  Parish  breeding,  the 
memory  of  it  would  always  have  a  depressing  effect  on  me. 
But  such  thoughts  he  met  with  something  like  angry  con- 
tempt. '  I  don't  know,'  said  he,  '  what  the  custom  of  the  Welsh 
people  may  be,  but  here  we  regard  personal  character  and 
worth,  not  pedigree.  With  us,  people  are  advanced,  not  for 
what  their  parentage  may  have  been,  but  for  what  they  are 
themselves.  All  whom  I  meet  in  broadcloth  have  risen 
through  their  own  efforts,  and  not  because  they  were  their 
father's  children.  President  Buchanan  was  made  our  chief 
magistrate  because  he  was  himself,  and  not  because  of  his 
father,  or  his  ancestors,  or  because  he  was  poorly  or  richly 
brought  up.  We  put  a  premium  on  the  proper  exercise  of 
every  faculty,  and  guarantee  to  every  man  full  freedom  to 
better  himself  in  any  way  he  chooses,  provided  always  he 
does  not  exercise  it  at  the  expense  of  the  rights  of  other  people. 
It  is  only  those  who  refuse  to  avail  themselves  of  their  oppor- 
tunities, and  shamefully  abuse  them,  that  we  condemn.' 

At  other  times,  the  vehemence  of  youth  would  frequently 
betray  itself;  and,  if  I  had  not  been  checked,  I  should  prob- 
ably have  developed  undue  loquacity.  Being  of  sanguine  tem- 
per by  nature,  I  was  led  through  gushes  of  healthy  rapture 
into  excesses  of  speech ;  but  he  would  turn  on  me,  and  gravely 
say  that  he  was  not  accustomed  to  carry  magnifiers  with  him ; 
that,  owing  to  his  own  sense  of  proportion,  my  figures  gave 
him  no  true  idea  of  the  fact  I  wished  to  state,  that  my  free  use 
of  unnecessary  ciphers  only  created  confusion  in  his  mind. 
Sometimes  he  would  assume  a  comical  look  of  incredulity, 
which  brought  me  to  my  senses  very  quickly,  and  made  me 
retract  what  I  had  said,  and  repeat  the  statement  with  a  more 
sacred  regard  for  accuracy.  'Just  so,'  he  would  say ;  'if  a  thing 
is  worth  stating  at  all,  it  might  as  well  be  stated  truly.  A  boy's 
fancy  is  very  warm,  I  know;  but,  if  once  he  acquires  the 
habit  of  multiplying  his  figures,  every  fact  will  soon  become 
no  better  than  a  fable.' 

Being  an  early  riser  himself,  he  insisted  on  my  cultivating 
the  habit  of  rising  at  dawn,  but  he  also  sent  me  to  bed  at  an 
early  hour.  He  lost  no  occasion  to  urge  me  to  apply  the 
morning  hours  to  study ;  and,  really,  his  anxiety  that  I  should 


i3o  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

snatch  the  flying  minutes  appeared  to  be  so  great,  that  I  was 
often  infected  with  it  as  though  they  were  something  tangible, 
but  so  elusive  that  only  a  firm  grasp  would  avail.  If  he  saw 
me  idly  gazing  on  the  shores,  he  would  recall  me,  to  ask  if  I 
had  finished  some  chapter  we  had  been  discussing,  or  if  I  had 
found  a  different  answer  to  his  question  than  I  had  last  given ; 
and,  if  he  detected  an  inclination  in  me  to  listen  to  the  talk  of 
passengers  round  the  bar,  he  would  ask  if  there  were  no  books 
in  the  cabin,  that  I  must  needs  hanker  for  the  conversation 
of  idlers.  'All  the  babble  of  these  topers,  if  boiled  down,'  he 
would  say,  'would  not  give  a  drachm  of  useful  knowledge. 
Greatness  never  sprang  from  such  fruitless  gossip.  Those 
men  were  merely  wasting  time.  From  motives  of  selfishness, 
they,  no  doubt,  would  be  glad  to  exchange  trivial  talk  with 
anyone,  big  or  little,  who  might  come  near  them,  but  it  was 
not  to  my  interest  to  be  in  their  company.' 

He  would  put  his  arm  in  mine,  and  lead  me  away  to  deliver 
himself  of  his  thoughts  on  the  glory  of  youth,  painting  it  in 
such  bright  colours  that,  before  long,  I  would  be  seized  with  a 
new  idea  of  its  beauty  and  value.  It  appeared  to  be  only  a 
brief  holiday,  which  ought  to  be  employed  for  the  strengthen- 
ing of  muscles,  gathering  the  flowers  of  knowledge,  and  culling 
the  riper  fruits  of  wisdom.  Youth  was,  really,  only  the  period 
for  gaining  strength  of  bone,  to  endure  the  weight  put  on  it 
by  manhood,  and  for  acquiring  that  largeness  of  mind  neces- 
sary to  understand  the  ventures  I  should  hereafter  be  com- 
pelled to  take.  To  squander  it  among  such  fellows  as  con- 
gregated around  bar-rooms  and  liquor-counters  was  as  foolish 
as  to  open  my  veins  to  let  out  my  life-blood.  '  Now  is  the  time 
to  prepare  for  the  long  voyage  you  are  to  take.  You  have 
seen  the  ships  in  the  docks  taking  in  their  stores  before  leaving 
for  the  high  sea  where  nothing  can  be  bought.  If  the  captains 
neglect  their  duties,  the  crews  will  starve.  You  are  in  the 
dock  to-day;  have  you  everything  ready  for  your  voyage? 
Are  all  your  provisions  aboard?  If  not,  then,  when  you  have 
hoisted  your  sails,  it  will  be  too  late  to  think  of  them,  and  only 
good-luck  can  save  you  from  misfortune' ;  and  so  on,  until, 
through  his  forcible  manner,  earnestness,  and  copious  similes, 
I  returned  to  my  studies  with  intense  application. 

The  sight  in  the  steamer  saloons  of  crowds  of  excited  gam- 


I   FIND  A  FATHER  131 

biers  was  employed  by  him  in  exposition  of  his  views  on  the 
various  ways  of  acquiring  wealth.  Those  piles  of  golden 
eagles  that  glittered  on  the  table  of  the  saloon  would  enrich 
none  of  the  gamblers  permanently.  Money  obtained  by  such 
methods  always  melted  away.  Wealth  was  made  by  industry 
and  economy,  and  not  by  gambling  or  speculating.  To  know 
how  to  be  frugal  was  the  first  step  towards  a  fortune,  the  sec- 
ond was  to  practice  frugality,  and  the  third  step  was  to  know 
what  to  do  with  the  money  saved.  It  was  every  man's  duty 
to  put  something  aside  each  day,  were  it  only  a  few  cents. 
No  man  in  America  was  paid  such  low  wages  that,  if  he  were 
determined,  he  could  not  put  away  half  of  them.  A  man's 
best  friend,  after  God,  was  himself ;  and,  if  he  could  not  rely 
on  himself,  he  could  not  rely  on  anybody  else.  His  first  duty 
was  to  himself,  as  he  was  bound  to  his  own  wants  all  his  life, 
and  must  provide  for  them  under  every  circumstance;  if  he 
neglected  to  provide  for  his  own  needs,  he  would  always  be 
unable  to  do  anything  towards  the  need  of  others.  Then,  as 
his  custom  was,  he  would  proceed  to  apply  these  remarks  to 
my  case.  I  was  to  retain  in  my  mind, the  possibility  of  being 
again  homeless,  and  friendless,  and  adrift  in  the  world,  the 
world  keeping  itself  to  itself,  and  barring  the  door  against  me, 
as  it  did  at  Liverpool,  New  Orleans,  and  St.  Louis,  'The 
poor  man  is  hated,  even  by  his  own  neighbour ;  but  the  rich 
man  has  many  friends,'  etc.,  etc. 

An  original  method  of  instruction  which  he  practised  with 
me  was  to  present  me  different  circumstances,  and  ask  me 
what  I  would  do.  These  were  generally  difficult  cases,  wherein 
honesty,  honour,  and  right-doing,  were  involved.  No  sooner 
had  I  answered,  than  he  would  press  me  with  another  view  of 
it,  wherein  it  appeared  that  his  view  was  just  as  fair  as  the  one 
I  had;  and  he  would  so  perplex  me  that  I  would  feel  quite 
foolish.  For  instance,  a  fellow-clerk  of  mine  was  secretly  dis- 
honest, but  was  attached  to  me  in  friendship.  He  made  free 
with  his  employer's  till,  and  one  day  was  discovered  by  me 
alone.  What  would  I  do?  I  would  dissuade  him.  But  sup- 
posing, despite  his  promises  to  you,  he  was  still  continuing  to 
abstract  small  sums:  what  then?  I  would  accuse  him  of  it, 
and  say  to  him  he  was  a  thief.  Supposing  that,  seeing  you 
could  give  no  positive  proof  of  his  theft,  he  denied  it  ?  Then 


i32  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

he  would  be  a  liar,  too,  and  there  would  be  a  quarrel.  And 
what  then?  That  is  all.  What  of  the  employer?  In  what 
way?  Is  he  not  in  question?  does  he  not  pay  you  for  looking 
after  his  interests?  But  I  do  look  after  his  interests,  in  trying 
to  prevent  the  theft.  And  yet,  with  all  your  care  of  his  inter- 
ests, the  pilfering  goes  on,  and  nobody  knows  it  but  you.  You 
think,  then,  that  I  ought  to  tell  on  him,  and  ruin  him?  Well, 
when  you  engaged  with  your  employer,  did  you  not  make 
something  of  a  bargain  with  him,  that,  for  a  certain  wage, 
you  would  make  his  interests  your  own,  and  keep  him  duly 
informed  of  all  that  was  going  on  ? 

This  is  one  example  of  the  painstaking  way  in  which  he 
would  stir  up  my  reasoning  powers.  When  we  walked  through 
the  streets,  he  would  call  my  attention  to  the  faces  of  the 
passers-by,  and  would  question  me  as  to  what  professions 
or  trades  they  belonged  to;  and,  when  I  replied  that  I  could 
not  guess  them,  he  would  tell  me  that  my  eyes  were  the  lamps 
to  my  feet,  and  the  guides  to  my  understanding,  and  would 
show  me  that  though  I  might  not  guess  accurately  each  time, 
in  many  instances  I  might  arrive  at  the  truth,  and  that, 
whether  wrong  or  right,  the  attempt  to  do  so  was  an  exercise 
of  the  intellect,  and  would  greatly  tend,  in  time,  to  sharpen 
my  wits. 

Moral  resistance  was  a  favourite  subject  with  him.  He  said 
the  practice  of  it  gave  vigour  to  the  will,  which  required  it  as 
much  as  the  muscles.  The  will  required  to  be  strengthened  to 
resist  unholy  desires  and  low  passions,  and  was  one  of  the  best 
allies  that  conscience  could  have.  Conscience  was  a  good 
friend,  and  the  more  frequently  I  listened  to  it,  the  more  ready 
it  was  with  its  good  offices.  Conscience  was  the  sense  of  the 
soul;  and,  just  as  the  senses  of  smell  and  taste  guarded  my 
body  from  harm  or  annoyance,  it  guarded  the  spirit  from 
evil.  It  was  very  tender  and  alert  now,  because  I  was  yet  at 
school  and  the  influence  of  the  Scriptures  was  strong  in  me; 
but,  when  neglected,  it  became  dull  and  insensitive.  Those, 
however,  who  paid  heed  to  it  grew  to  feel  the  sensation  of  its 
protective  presence,  and,  upon  the  least  suspicion  of  evil,  it 
strenuously  summoned  the  will  to  its  aid,  and  thus  it  was 
that  temptations  were  resisted. 

Whether  afloat  or  ashore,  his  manners  were  so  open  and 


I   FIND   A   FATHER  133 

genial,  that  one  would  think  he  courted  acquaintance.  Many 
people,  led  by  this,  were  drawn  to  accost  him;  but  no  man 
knew  better  than  he,  how  to  relieve  himself  of  undesirable 
people,  and  those  who  enjoyed  his  company  were  singularly 
like  himself,  in  demeanour  and  conversation.  It  is  from  the 
character  of  his  associates  that  I  have  obtained  my  most 
lasting  impressions  of  Americans,  and,  whenever  mentioned, 
these  are  the  figures  which  always  rise  first  in  the  mental 
view.  'Punch's'  'Jonathan'  I  have  never  had  the  fortune  to 
meet,  though  one  who  has  travelled  through  two-thirds  of  the 
Union  could  scarcely  have  failed  to  meet  him,  if  he  were  a 
common  type.  Among  his  kind,  my  adopted  father  was  no 
mean  figure.  I  once  heard  a  man  speak  of  him  as  'a  man  of  a 
soft  heart  but  a  hard  head,'  which  I  fancied  had  a  sound  of 
depreciation;  but,  later,  I  acknowledged  it  as  just. 

It  was  some  six  months  or  so  after  my  adoption  that  I 
ventured  to  broach  a  subject  of  more  than  ordinary  interest 
to  me.  In  fact,  it  was  my  only  remaining  secret  from  him. 
It  had  been  often  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue,  but  I  had  been  re- 
strained from  mentioning  it  through  fear  of  scorn.  My  ideas 
respecting  the  Deity  I  suspected  were  too  peculiar  to  trust 
them  to  speech ;  and  yet,  if  someone  did  not  enlighten  me, 
I  should  remain  long  in  ignorance  of  the  Divine  character. 
True,  certain  coincidences  made  me  secretly  believe  that  God 
heard  me ;  nevertheless,  I  burned  to  know  from  an  authorita- 
tive source  whether  I  was  the  victim  of  illusions,  or  whether 
the  Being  of  my  conceptions  bore  any  resemblance  to  that  of 
the  learned  and  old  I  had  met.  I  imagined  God  as  a  personal- 
ity with  human  features,  set  in  the  midst  of  celestial  Glory  in 
the  Heaven  of  Heavens ;  and,  whenever  I  prayed,  it  was  to  Him 
thus  framed  that  I  directed  my  supplications.  My  father  did 
not  ridicule  this  idea  as  I  feared  he  would,  and  I  was  much  re- 
lieved to  hear  him  ask  how  I  had  come  to  form  such  a  fancy. 
This  was  difficult  to  express  in  words,  but,  at  last,  I  managed 
to  explain  that,  probably,  it  was  from  the  verse  which  said 
that  God  had  made  man  after  His  own  image,  and  because 
clergymen  always  looked  upward  when  in  church. 

I  cannot  give  his  own  words,  but  this  is  the  substance  of 
my  first  intelligible  lesson  on  this  subject. 

'God  is  a  spirit,  as  you  have  often  read.  A  spirit  is  a  thing 


134  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

that  cannot  be  seen  with  human  eyes,  because  it  has  no  figure 
or  form.  A  man  consists  of  body  and  spirit,  or,  as  we  call  it, 
soul.  The  material  part  of  him  we  can  see  and  feel ;  but  that 
which  animates  him,  and  governs  his  every  thought,  is  in- 
visible. When  a  person  dies,  we  say  his  spirit  has  fled,  or  that 
his  soul  has  departed  to  its  Maker.  The  body  is  then  as  in- 
sensible as  clay,  and  will  soon  corrupt,  and  become  absorbed 
by  the  earth. 

'  We  cannot  see  the  air  we  breathe,  nor  the  strong  wind 
which  wrecks  ships,  and  blows  houses  down,  yet  we  cannot 
live  without  air,  and  the  effects  of  the  winds  are  not  disputed. 
We  cannot  see  the  earth  move,  and  yet  it  is  perpetually 
whirling  through  space.  We  cannot  see  that  which  draws  the 
compass-needle  to  the  Pole;  yet  we  trust  our  ships  to  its 
guidance.  No  one  saw  the  cause  of  that  fever  which  killed 
so  many  people  in  New  Orleans  last  summer,  but  we  know  it 
was  in  the  air  around  the  city.  If  you  take  a  pinch  of  gun- 
powder and  examine  it,  you  cannot  see  the  terrible  force  that 
is  in  it.  So  it  is  with  the  soul  of  man.  While  it  is  in  him,  you 
witness  his  lively  emotions,  and  wonder  at  his  intelligence  and 
energy ;  but,  when  it  has  fled,  it  leaves  behind  only  an  inert 
and  perishable  thing,  which  must  be  buried  quickly. 

'Well,  then,  try  and  imagine  the  Universe  subject  to  the 
same  invisible  but  potent  Intelligence,  in  the  same  way  that 
man  is  subject  to  his.  It  is  impossible  for  your  eyes  to  see  the 
thing  itself;  but,  if  you  cannot  see  its  effects,  you  must  be 
blind.  Day  after  day,  year  after  year,  since  the  beginning, 
that  active  and  wonderful  Intelligence  has  been  keeping  light 
and  darkness,  sun,  moon,  stars,  and  earth,  each  to  their  course 
in  perfect  order.  Every  living  being  on  the  earth  to-day  is  a 
witness  to  its  existence.  The  Intelligence  that  conceived  this 
order  and  decreed  that  it  should  endure,  that  still  sustains  it, 
and  will  outlast  every  atom  of  creation,  we  describe  under  the 
term  of  God.  It  is  a  short  word,  but  it  signifies  the  Being  that 
fills  the  Universe,  and  a  portion  of  whom  is  in  you  and  me. 

'Now,  what  possible  figure  can  you  give  of  that  Being  that 
fills  so  large  a  space,  and  is  everywhere  ?  The  sun  is  95  millions 
of  miles  from  us ;  imagine  95  millions  of  miles  on  the  other 
side,  yet  the  circle  that  would  embrace  those  two  points  is  but 
a  small  one  compared  to  the  whole  of  space.  However  far  that 


I   FIND  A  FATHER  135 

space  extends,  the  mighty  Intelligence  governs  all.  You  are 
able  to  judge  for  yourself  how  inconceivable,  for  the  mind 
of  man,  God  is.  The  Bible  says  "As  the  Heavens  are  higher 
than  the  earth,  so  are  His  ways  higher  than  our  ways."  God 
is  simply  indefinable,  except  as  a  spirit,  but  by  that  small 
fraction  of  Him  which  is  in  us,  we  are  able  to  communicate 
with  Him ;  for  He  so  ordered  it  that  we  might  be  exalted  the 
more  we  believe  in  Him.' 

'But  how,  then,  am  I  to  pray?'  I  asked,  as  my  little  mind 
tried  to  grasp  this  enormous  space,  and  recoiled,  baffled  and 
helpless.  'Must  I  only  think,  or  utter  the  words,  without 
regard  to  the  object  or  way  I  direct  them?' 

'It  seems  to  me  our  Saviour  Himself  has  instructed  us.  He 
said,  "  But  thou,  when  thou  prayest,  enter  into  thy  closet,  and 
when  thou  hast  shut  thy  door,  pray  to  thy  Father  which  is 
in  secret ;  and  thy  Father,  which  seeth  in  secret,  shall  reward 
thee  openly.  Your  Father  knoweth  what  things  ye  have  need 
of  before  ye  ask  Him." 

1  Prayer  is  the  expression  of  a  wish  of  the  heart,  whether  you 
speak  aloud,  or  think  it.  You  are  a  creature  of  God,  destined 
to  perform  His  design,  be  it  great  or  little.  Out  of  the  limits 
of  that  design  you  cannot  venture,  therefore  prayer  will  not 
avail  you.  Within  the  limits  you  will  be  wise  to  pray,  in  order 
that  you  may  be  guided  aright.  The  understanding  that  He 
has  seen  fit  to  give  you  is  equal  to  what  you  are  destined  to  do. 
You  may  do  it  well,  or  ill ;  but  that  is  left  to  your  choice.  How 
wide,  or  how  narrow,  those  limits  are,  no  one  knows  but  Him- 
self. Your  existence  may  be  compared  to  this:  supposing  I 
give  you  a  sum  of  money  which  I  know  to  be  enough  to  take 
you  to  New  Orleans  and  return  here.  If  you  spend  that 
money  faithfully  and  properly,  it  will  suffice  to  bring  you 
comfortably  back ;  but,  if  you  are  foolish  and  waste  it  by  the 
way,  it  may  not  even  be  enough  to  take  you  half-way  on  your 
journey.  That  is  how  I  look  upon  our  existence.  God  has 
furnished  us  with  the  necessary  senses  for  the  journey  of  life 
He  has  intended  we  should  take.  If  we  employ  them  wisely, 
they  will  take  us  safely  to  our  journey's  end ;  but  if,  through 
their  perversion,  we  misuse  them,  it  will  be  our  own  fault. 
By  prayer  our  spirits  communicate  with  God.  We  seek  that 
wisdom,  moral  strength,  courage,  and  patience  to  guide  and 


i36  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

sustain  us  on  the  way.  The  Father,  who  has  all  the  time  ob- 
served us,  grants  our  wish,  and  the  manner  of  it  is  past  finding 
out;  but  the  effect  is  like  a  feeling  of  restored  health,  or  a 
burst  of  gladness.  It  is  not  necessary  to  make  long  or  loud 
prayers :  the  whisper  of  a  child  is  heard  as  well  as  the  shout  of 
a  nation.  It  is  purity  of  life,  and  sincerity  of  heart,  that  are 
wanted  when  you  approach  the  Creator  to  implore  His  as- 
sistance. We  must  first  render  the  service  due  to  Him  by  our 
perfect  conduct,  before  we  seek  favours  from  Him.' 

1  But  what  does  the  verse  "So  God  created  him  in  His  own 
image"  mean,  then?* 

1  If  you  still  cling  to  the  idea  that  the  human  form  is  a  tiny 
likeness  of  the  Almighty,  you  are  more  childish  than  I  be- 
lieved you  to  be.  "Image/'  in  the  Bible  sense,  means  simply 
a  reflection.  In  our  souls  and  intelligence  we  reflect,  in  a  small 
way,  God's  own  mightier  spirit  and  intelligence,  just  as  a 
small  pocket  mirror  reflects  the  sun  and  the  sky,  or  your  eyes 
reflect  the  light.' 

Having  had  my  doubts  satisfied  upon  these  essential  points, 
there  was  only  one  thing  more  which  I  craved  to  know,  and 
that  was  in  regard  to  the  Scriptures.  Were  they  the  words  of 
God?   If  not,  what  was  the  Bible? 

According  to  him,  the  Bible  was  the  standard  of  the 
Christian  faith,  a  fountain  whence  we  derived  our  inspiration 
of  piety  and  goodness,  a  proof  that  God  interfered  in  human 
affairs,  and  a  guide  to  salvation.  He  read  from  Timothy,  'All 
scripture  is  given  by  inspiration  of  God,  and  is  profitable  for 
doctrine,  for  reproof,  for  correction,  for  instruction  in  right- 
eousness :  that  the  man  of  God  may  be  perfect,  thoroughly 
furnished  unto  all  good  works' ;  and  from  Paul  he  quoted  that 
4  it  was  written  for  our  learning,  that  we  through  patience 
and  comfort  might  have  hope/ 

1  You  are  not,'  said  he, '  to  pay  too  much  attention  to  the  set 
phrases,  but  to  the  matter  and  spirit  of  what  is  written,  which 
are  for  the  promotion  of  virtue  and  happiness.  Many  of  the 
books  have  been  written  by  men  like  ourselves,  who  lived 
between  two  thousand  and  four  thousand  years  ago,  and  they 
used  words  peculiar  to  their  own  time.  The  mere  texts  or 
form  of  the  words  they  used  are  not  the  exact  words  of  God, 
but  are  simply  the  means  of  conveying  the  messages  breathed 


I   FIND  A  FATHER  137 

into  their  understandings ;  and,  naturally,  they  delivered  them 
in  the  style  of  their  period,  and  according  to  their  ability,  with 
such  simplicity  as  would  enable  the  common  people  to  com- 
prehend them.  If  I  had  to  convey  to  you  the  proclamation 
of  the  President  of  the  United  States,  I  should  have  to  write 
it  more  simply,  and  in  a  form  that  you  would  understand :  so 
these  Divine  proclamations  have  been  given  to  us  by  His 
chosen  messengers,  more  faithfully  than  literally.' 

The  above  are  a  few  of  the  intelligent  ideas  which  I  ob- 
tained from  my  father,  and  for  which  I  have  been  as  grateful 
as  for  his  unusual  goodness  in  other  respects.  Probably,  many 
a  sermon  which  I  had  heard  had  contained  them  in  a  diluted 
form ;  but  they  had  not  been  adapted  to  my  understanding, 
and  his  clear  exposition  of  these  subjects  was  an  immense 
relief  to  me.  It  was  a  fortunate  thing  for  me  that  my  foggy 
beliefs,  and  vague  notions,  in  regard  to  such  high  matters, 
could  be  laid  open  with  all  trust  and  confidence  before  one  so 
qualified  and  tender,  before  they  became  too  established  in 
my  mind,  otherwise,  as  my  own  intelligence  ripened,  I  might 
have  drifted  into  atheistical  indifference.  The  substance  of 
my  father's  sayings,  which  I  have  always  remembered,  illus- 
trate the  bent  of  his  mind.  I  carefully  copied  them  into  a 
beautiful  memorandum-book  of  which  he  made  me  a  present, 
New  Year's  Day,  i860,  and  which  I  was  so  proud  of  that, 
during  the  first  few  days,  I  had  filled  more  than  half  of  it 
with  the  best  words  of  my  father. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  I  was  at  all  times  deserving 
of  his  solicitude,  or  equal  to  his  expectations.  I  was  one  who 
could  not  always  do  the  right  and  proper  thing,  for  I  was  often 
erring  and  perverse,  and  at  various  times  must  have  tried  him 
sorely.  My  temper  was  quick,  which,  with  an  excess  of  false 
pride,  inspired  me  to  the  verge  of  rebellion.  A  sense  of  decency 
prevented  me  from  any  overt  act  of  defiance,  but  the  spirit 
was  not  less  fierce  because  I  imposed  the  needful  restraint  on 
it.  Outwardly,  I  might  be  tranquil  enough,  but  my  smothered 
resentment  was  as  wicked  and  unjustifiable  as  if  I  had  openly 
defied  him.  A  choleric  disposition  on  his  part  would  have 
been  as  a  flame  to  my  nature,  and  the  result  might  have  been 
guessed.  Happily  for  me,  he  was  consistently  considerate,  and 
declined  to  notice  too  closely  the  flushed  face,  and  the  angry 


i38  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

sparkles  of  the  eye,  which  betokened  revolt.  An  occasional 
blood-letting  might  perhaps  have  been  beneficial  to  me;  but 
he  had  discovered  other  methods,  just  as  efficacious,  for 
reducing  me  to  a  state  of  reason,  and  never  once  had  recourse 
to  threats.  My  fits  of  sullenness  had  been  probably  provoked 
by  an  unexpected  sharpness  of  tone,  or  a  denial  of  some  liberty, 
or  graver  censure  than  I  thought  I  deserved.  Constrained  to 
silence  by  the  magnitude  and  character  of  my  obligations  to 
him,  I,  of  course,  magnified  my  grievances;  and,  the  longer 
reconciliation  was  deferred,  the  larger  these  seemed.  Before 
this  dangerous  mood  sought  vent,  some  look,  a  word,  some 
secret  transmission  of  sympathy  occurred,  and,  in  an  instant, 
the  evil  humour  vanished;  for  weeks  afterwards,  I  would 
endeavour  to  atone  for  my  churlish  behaviour  by  a  contrite 
submissiveness  which  was  capable  of  undergoing  any  penance. 

' 1  do  not  punish  you/  he  said,  '  because  I  want  you  to  re- 
member that  you  are  a  little  man,  and  the  only  difference 
between  us  is  that  I  am  an  older  man.  If  I  were  in  the  habit 
of  striking  you,  you  would  run  away  from  me,  or  it  would  be 
noticeable  in  you  by  a  slinking  gait,  or  a  sly  eye,  or  a  sullen 
disposition,  or  a  defiant  look,  or  you  would  become  broken- 
spirited  ;  all  this  I  do  not  want  you  to  be  —  I  wish  for  your 
filial  regard,  and  your  respect,  which  I  would  not  deserve  if 
I  terrified.  Misery  and  suffering  would  wreck  your  temper, 
while  kindness  and  reason  will  bring  out  the  best  qualities  of 
your  nature;  for  you,  as  well  as  every  child  that  is  born, 
possess  something  that  is  good,  and  it  is  the  sunshine  of 
tenderness  that  makes  it  grow.' 

To  one  who  considers  that  neither  the  closest  ties  of  rela- 
tionship, nor  the  highest  claims  of  affection,  are  sufficient  to 
preserve  the  rebellious  spirit  in  an  angelic  temper  for  a  long 
time,  this  boyish  inconsistency  and  perverseness  will  be  no 
surprise;  but  I  was  sensible  that  it  was  only  owing  to  his 
patience  that  it  did  not  receive  the  condign  punishment  it 
deserved.  This,  in  itself,  was  an  education ;  for  I  learned,  after 
several  experiences,  not  to  disturb  myself  too  seriously  because 
of  a  temporary  change  in  his  manner  or  mood,  and  to  accept 
it  rather  as  being  due  to  some  cross  in  business,  or  physical 
condition,  than  to  any  offence  in  me,  and  so  the  customary 
cordiality  was  soon  restored. 


I   FIND  A  FATHER  139 

If  I  could  only  have  made  similar  allowances  earlier,  and 
with  other  persons  in  later  life,  I  should  have  had  much  less 
unhappiness  to  bewail ;  but,  in  his  case,  the  necessity  of  doing 
so  was  impressed  on  me  by  my  intimate  knowledge  of  his 
fatherliness,  and  affectionate  considerateness,  and  by  the 
constant  sense  that  I  owed  him  unreserved  submission. 


CHAPTER  VI 
ADRIFT  AGAIN 

MY  education  did  not  consist  solely  of  his  discussions 
upon  books,  morality,  and  religion,  but  it  embraced 
a  countless  variety  of  topics  suggested  by  our 
travels.  By  his  method  of  teaching,  no  passive  reception  of 
facts  was  possible,  and  the  stimulus  to  intellect  was  given  by 
being  urged  to  observe,  sift,  and  examine  every  article  of 
conversation.  I  absorbed  considerable  practical  knowledge 
during  this  period.  His  level-headedness,  which  I  was  prone 
to  regard  at  that  time  as  the  height  of  worldly  wisdom,  and 
his  intense  realness,  aided  greatly  to  clarify  my  ideas  upon 
many  things,  and  was  excellently  adapted  to  form  a  sound 
judgement.  He  could  be  as  genial  as  a  glad  boy  on  his  summer 
holiday,  lofty  as  a  preacher,  frank  as  a  brother ;  but  right- 
eously austere,  hilariously  familiar  and  jocose,  yet  sublime, 
according  to  occasion.  The  candour  and  good  faith  with 
which  he  spoke,  the  expansive  benevolence,  and  the  large 
amount  of  sympathy  he  always  showed  when  I  sought  his 
advice,  or  exposed  my  doubts  or  fears,  were  the  very  qualities 
which  were  best  calculated  to  ensure  my  affection,  extract  my 
shy  confidences,  and  cultivate  in  me  a  fearless  openness.  With 
the  exception  of  those  fits  of  sullen  resentment  to  which  I 
was  now  and  then  subject,  like  other  human  whelps,  my  life 
with  him  was  one  unbroken  period  of  pleasantness,  and,  so 
far  as  I  required  and  knew,  every  condition  of  a  Paradise  was 
present,  in  the  unfretting,  fair,  and  healthful  existence  which 
I  led. 

I  sometimes  imagine  that  he  must  have  discerned  something 
attractive  in  me,  though  I  myself  was  unconscious  of  the 
cause.  If  I  review  my  appearance  at  that  time,  I  can  find 
nothing  to  admire.  I  was  naturally  shy,  silent,  short  of  fig- 
ure, poorly  clad,  uninteresting,  and  yet  he  chose  me,  from 
the  first  moment  he  saw  me,  to  be  an  object  of  his  charity.  I 
endeavoured  to  be,  as  the  phrase  is,  good  and  grateful ;  but, 


ADRIFT  AGAIN  141 

as  I  have  reason  to  remember,  I  was  by  no  means  perfect  in 
my  endeavours.  I  think  zeal,  good-will,  docility,  were  my 
only  commendable  traits ;  but  they  strike  me  now  as  being 
insufficient  to  account  for  my  undeniable  good  fortune. 

I  can  only  remember  one  noticeable  incident,  outside  of  the 
common,  in  connection  with  this  period,  and  that  occurred 
in  the  middle  of  i860.  We  were  passengers  on  the  steamer 
'Little  Rock,'  as  she  was  returning,  laden  with  cotton,  down 
the  Washita.  My  father  had  been  paid  money  due  to  him  for 
goods  by  a  merchant  near  Fairview,  and,  through  neglect,  or 
some  other  reason,  had  deferred  entrusting  it  to  the  purser 
longer  than  he  ought.  We  were  approaching  near  Sicily 
Island,  when,  in  the  gloom  caused  by  the  mountain-pile  of 
cotton  bales,  I  observed  a  man  lingering  rather  suspiciously 
near  our  cabin-door.  At  first,  I  took  him  for  one  of  the  stew- 
ards ;  but,  on  observing  him  more  particularly,  his  conduct, 
I  thought,  suggested  some  nefarious  design.  My  father  had 
retired,  and,  according  to  custom,  I  ought  to  have  been  abed ; 
but  the  unusual  freight  of  cotton  the  boat  carried  had  kept 
me  in  a  state  of  suppressed  excitement.  Being  light  and  active, 
I  ensconced  myself  in  a  dark  gap  between  two  tiers  of  bales, 
and  waited  patiently.  After  a  little  time  the  man  put  his  ear 
to  our  door,  and  presently  opened  it,  and  entered  our  cabin. 
In  a  few  minutes,  I  heard  my  father's  voice  ask,  'Who  is 
there?'  and,  immediately,  sounds  of  a  struggle  were  heard. 
Upon  this  I  bounded  in,  and  found  the  stranger  wrestling  with 
my  father,  and  one  of  the  two  seemed  to  be  choking.  Upon 
seeing  me,  the  intruder  turned  rapidly  towards  me.  I  saw 
the  flash  as  of  steel,  and  something  struck  me  between  my  arm 
and  left  breast  in  my  overcoat,  and  a  piece  of  metal  tinkled 
on  the  floor.  Then,  with  a  deep  curse,  I  was  flung  aside,  and 
the  man  fled  along  the  guards.  We  instantly  raised  a  cry  of 
'Thieves!'  which  brought  crowds  of  stewards  and  passengers 
to  us,  carrying  lights.  These  revealed  an  open  portmanteau, 
with  rumpled  contents,  and  the  half  of  a  carving-knife  blade 
on  the  floor.  On  examining  my  coat  it  was  seen  that  it  had  a 
cut  as  far  as  the  canvas  stiffening.  All  these  evidences  tended 
to  prove  that  a  daring  attempt  at  robbery  had  been  made, 
and,  it  was  suspected,  by  someone  connected  with  the  boat. 
The  chief  steward  mustered  the  waiters,  but  they  all  an- 


i42  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

swered  to  their  names.  He  next  counted  the  carving-knives, 
and,  according  to  him,  one  was  missing.  The  incident  caused 
quite  a  commotion  for  the  time,  but  the  culprit  was  never 
discovered. 

Beyond  this  incident,  we  were  singularly  free  from  mishaps, 
and  exciting  episodes,  upon  waters  that  had  been  the  scene 
of  many  a  calamity ;  and  yet,  when  I  chanced  to  find  myself 
among  a  group  of  passengers,  I  frequently  heard  terrible 
recitals  of  experiences  at  boiler-explosions,  and  shipwrecks, 
and  other  events  hazardous  to  life.  We  had  often  been  fellow- 
passengers  with  gamblers,  some  of  whom  were  wrought  into 
fury  by  their  losses  at  cards ;  but,  whether  it  was  owing  to  my 
good  or  evil  fortune,  I  never  happened  to  be  present  when  the 
issue  was  left  to  the  arbitrament  of  revolver  and  bowie-knife, 
as  there  were  plenty  of  peace-makers  always  ready  to  inter- 
fere at  the  critical  moment. 

In  September  of  i860,  we  met  a  tall  and  spruce  gentleman, 
of  the  name  of  Major  Ingham,  on  board  of  a  steamer  bound  to 
New  Orleans.  From  what  I  gathered,  he  was  a  South  Carolin- 
ian by  birth,  but,  some  few  years  since,  had  removed  to  Saline 
County,  Arkansas,  and  had  established  a  plantation  not  far 
from  Warren.  My  father  and  he  had  an  abundant  amount  of 
small- talk  together  relating  to  acquaintances  and  localities, 
which  occupied  their  leisure  during  the  voyage.  The  Major 
also  ingratiated  himself  with  me,  and,  through  his  description 
of  the  forests  of  pine  and  oak,  and  accounts  of  the  wild  animals, 
such  as  catamounts,  bears,  and  deer,  in  his  region,  I  became 
warmly  attached  to  him.  Before  reaching  New  Orleans,  we 
had  become  so  intimate  that  he  extended  an  invitation  to  me 
to  spend  a  month  with  him  on  his  Arkansas  plantation ;  and, 
on  referring  him  to  father,  I  found  that  he  was  not  so  averse 
to  the  proposal  as  I  feared  he  would  be.  The  subject  was 
deferred  for  further  consideration  in  the  city. 

After  about  a  fortnight's  stay  at  the  St.  Charles  Hotel,  my 
father  was  made  anxious  by  a  letter  from  Havana  from  his 
brother,  and  he  resolved  to  go  and  see  him.  He  then  disclosed 
to  me  that  after  much  mental  discussion  he  had  concluded 
that  Major  Ingham's  invitation  had  assisted  greatly  in 
smoothing  matters.  For  some  time  he  had  been  debating  as 
to  how  it  would  be  best  to  take  the  first  step  for  establishing 


ADRIFT  AGAIN  143 

my  future.  He  had  been  much  struck  with  the  opportunities 
for  doing  a  good  business  in  a  country  store,  at  some  place 
below  Pine  Bluff  on  the  Arkansas.  There  were  a  large  number 
of  planters  settled  there,  and  a  general  supply  store  such  as  he 
had  fancied  for  their  convenience  could  not  fail  to  be  a  success. 
Major  Ingham's  plantation  was  situated  about  forty  miles 
back  of  the  Arkansas  River,  and,  at  Cypress  Bend,  there  was 
a  friend  of  his  who,  upon  a  letter  from  him,  would  take  me 
in  to  teach  me  the  details  of  a  country  merchant's  business. 
Here  was  an  opportunity  of  approaching  his  project  in  a 
methodical  way  without  loss  of  time.  His  brother's  illness  at 
Havana  had  caused  some  confusion  in  his  affairs,  and  it  was 
necessary  for  him  to  cross  the  Gulf  and  set  things  in  order. 
Meantime,  I  had  a  safe  escort  to  within  a  day's  drive  of  the 
merchant's  store,  to  which,  after  being  tired  of  the  plantation, 
I  was  to  go  to  be  grounded  in  the  minutiae  of  a  retail  store ;  and 
in  a  few  months  he  would  have  wound  up  his  commission 
business,  and  be  able  to  avail  himself  of  my  local  knowledge, 
and  proceed  to  choose  the  best  locality. 

I  saw  no  objection  to  any  of  his  arrangements,  as  they  rather 
coincided  with  my  secret  ambitions,  which  had  been  fostered 
by  many  previous  allusions  to  such  a  scheme  as  had  been  now 
explained.  The  suddenness  of  the  parting  was  somewhat  of  a 
drawback  to  the  beauty  of  the  project ;  but,  as  accident  was  the 
cause,  and  his  absence  was  to  be  only  for  a  few  months,  dur- 
ing which  we  could  often  correspond,  I  became  inclined,  with 
the  sanguineness  of  my  nature,  to  anticipate  much  enjoyment 
from  the  novelty  of  the  situation.  In  my  highly-coloured 
fancy,  I  saw  illimitable  pine-woods,  infested  by  Indians,  and 
by  wild-cats,  and  other  savage  felines ;  and  the  fact  that  I 
was  about  to  prepare  myself  to  be  a  dealer  in  merchandise, 
preliminary  to  a  permanent  establishment,  appeared  such  an 
enchanting  prospect  that  I  felt  no  disposition  to  peer  into 
sober  realities.  Could  we  have  foreseen,  however,  that  this 
parting,  so  calmly  proposed  and  so  trustfully  accepted,  was 
to  be  for  ever,  both  of  us  would  have  shrunk  from  the  thought 
of  it ;  but,  unknown  to  ourselves,  we  had  arrived  at  the  parting 
of  the  ways,  and  though  we  both  sincerely  hoped  the  ways 
would  meet,  we  were  gliding  along  steep  planes  which  would 
presently  precipitate  us  into  the  wide  gulf  of  separation. 


i44  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

From  the  moment  it  was  agreed  to  part  for  a  while,  my 
father  lost  no  opportunity  to  fill  me  with  practical  counsel, 
which,  had  my  memory  been  a  knapsack,  I  could  have  ex- 
tracted at  will  for  consolation  and  guidance.  Unfortunately, 
for  some  things  my  memory  was  like  a  sieve :  it  retained  the 
larger  rules,  but  dropped  the  lesser  ones ;  it  preserved  certain 
principles  that  had  an  affinity  with  my  nature,  but  the  multi- 
tude of  minor  ones  that  he  had  attempted  to  graft  on  my 
nature  fell  away,  one  by  one.  I  was  to  be  industrious,  orderly, 
honourable,  and  steady,  patient,  and  obliging.  But  something 
of  these  I  would  naturally  have  shown  under  any  circum- 
stances ;  but  contact  with  real  life  discovers  that  these  virtues 
are  insufficient  to  keep  us  serene  and  immaculate,  that  the 
spirit  of  youth  requires  its  sensibilities  to  be  disciplined  in 
many  ways  before  it  endures  with  sweetness  and  patience  the 
spurns,  and  gibes,  and  mocks,  of  a  rude  world.  It  frequently 
meets  conditions  wherein  nothing  will  avail  but  force,  of  a 
most  strenuous  kind. 

When  the  hour  came  for  my  father's  departure,  Major 
Ingham  and  I  accompanied  him  on  board  the  Havana  steamer. 
The  last  parting  occurred  in  the  state-room.  At  that  moment, 
there  was  a  wild  fluttering  of  the  heart ;  and  something  like  an 
ugly  cloud  of  presentiments,  vague  shadows  of  unknown  evils 
to  come,  which  started  strong  doubts  of  the  wisdom  of  parting, 
came  over  me  all  at  once.  But,  as  usual,  when  clear  expres- 
sion was  most  needed,  I  was  too  tongue-tied  for  much  speech, 
so  many  ideas  thronged  for  utterance,  and  I  turned  away  as 
though  stricken  dumb.  Half  an  hour  later,  the  steamer  was 
only  discernible  by  its  trail  of  smoke. 

After  he  had  gone,  the  flood-gates  were  opened,  the  feelings 
relieved  themselves  by  torrents  of  words,  and  my  loss  and 
loneliness  pressed  hard  upon  the  senses.  Much  as  I  had 
valued  him,  it  needed  this  time  of  anguish  to  reveal  fully  what 
he  had  been  to  me.  Then,  pang  after  pang  of  poignant  con- 
trition pierced  me  through  and  through.  I  was  dissatisfied 
with  the  sum  of  my  conduct,  with  his  own  professions  that  I 
had  been  to  him  what  he  had  hoped  and  wished.  If  he  had  but 
returned  there  and  then,  with  the  clear  light  that  fell  on  my 
deficiencies  now,  how  I  should  have  striven  to  satisfy  my  own 
exact  ideas  of  what  was  due  to  him !  This  little  absence,  with 


ADRIFT  AGAIN  145 

its  unutterable  remorse,  had  been  more  efficacious  in  showing 
me  my  own  inwardness  than  all  his  unselfish  generosity. 

Nearly  five  and  thirty  years  have  passed  since,  and  I  have 
not  experienced  such  wretchedness  as  I  did  that  night  fol- 
lowing his  departure.  A  very  little  more,  and  I  think  it  would 
have  exceeded  the  heart's  power  to  bear.  My  emotions  were 
much  more  distressing  than  anyone  could  have  judged  from 
my  appearance.  I  caught  a  view  of  myself  in  a  mirror,  and 
my  face  struck  me  as  exhibiting  an  astonishing  contrast  to  the 
huge  disorder  beneath  it.  For  the  first  time,  I  understood  the 
sharpness  of  the  pang  which  pierces  the  soul  when  a  loved  one 
lies  with  folded  hands,  icy  cold,  in  the  sleep  of  Death.  I  vexed 
myself  with  asking,  Had  my  conduct  been  as  perfect  as  I  then 
wished  it  had  been?  Had  I  failed  in  aught?  Had  I  esteemed 
him  as  he  deserved  ?  Then  a  craving  wish  to  hear  him  speak 
but  one  word  of  consolation,  to  utter  one  word  of  blessing, 
made  me  address  him  as  though  he  might  hear ;  but  no  answer 
came,  and  I  experienced  a  shiver  of  sadness  and  wished  that  I 
could  die. 

I  have  often  looked  back  upon  the  boy  who  sat  like  a  stone 
in  his  father's  chair  for  hours,  revolving  with  fixed  eyes  and 
unmoved  face  all  that  this  parting  seemed  to  him  to  mean. 
Up  to  a  certain  point  he  traced  minutely  all  its  details,  went 
over  every  word  and  little  act,  and  then  a  great  blank  wall 
met  him,  into  which  he  strove  and  strove  again  to  penetrate, 
and,  being  baffled,  resumed  his  mental  rehearsals. 

Before  Major  Ingham  turned  his  steps  homeward,  I  received 
a  letter  from  my  father  duly  announcing  his  arrival  at  the 
island  of  Cuba.  After  describing  the  passage  across  the  Gulf, 
he  went  on  to  say  that  the  more  he  thought  of  his  plans,  the 
more  he  was  inclined  to  regard  the  Major's  invitation  as  a 
happy  incident  in  his  programme.  He  had  often  pondered 
over  the  best  means  of  starting  me  in  a  business  for  which  I 
had  a  decided  bent,  and  he  had  been  sounding  several  country 
merchants  with  a  view  of  giving  me  a  preliminary  training, 
but  he  had  constantly  deferred  a  decision  in  the  hope  of  find- 
ing something  that  more  nearly  suited  his  ideas.  Now,  how- 
ever, it  all  seemed  clear.  He  had  always  fancied  the  Arkansas 
River,  as  it  had  a  richer  back  country  than  any  other,  and, 
by  means  of  the  steamers  and  its  superior  navigation,  was 


i46  HENRY   M.  STANLEY 

in  direct  communication  with  the  cities  on  the  Mississippi. 
There  were  many  professions  and  trades  for  which  I  was  fit, 
but  he  thought  that  I  was  more  partial  to  a  mercantile  career, 
and  he  was  glad  of  it.  He  went  on  to  say  that  I  had  made  a 
wonderful  advance  during  the  last  year  with  him,  but  it  was 
on  the  next  few  years  that  my  future  depended.  For  tiding 
over  them  successfully,  I  had  only  to  hold  fast  to  my  princi- 
ples, and  be  fearless  in  all  manly  things ;  to  persevere  and  win. 

The  letter  seemed  to  be  his  very  self,  full  of  practical  sense. 
I  felt  enriched  by  its  possession.  It  was  a  novelty  to  have  a 
letter  of  my  own,  sent  from  such  a  distance.  I  read  it  over 
and  over,  and  found  new  meanings  and  greater  solace  each 
time.  The  signature  attracted  my  attention  with  its  peculiar 
whip,  or  nourish,  below  ;  and  in  my  reply,  which  covered  many 
pages,  I  annexed  that  whip  and  ended  my  first  epistle  with 
it;  and,  ever  since,  no  signature  of  mine  has  been  complete 
without  it. 

Soon  after,  Major  Ingham  started  on  his  return  home  in  a 
stern-wheeler  bound  for  the  Washita  and  Saline  Rivers.  The 
Washita,  next  to  the  Arkansas,  is  the  most  important  river 
which  passes  through  the  state  of  Arkansas  —  pronounced 
'Arkansas.'  The  Saline  is  one  of  its  feeders,  and  has  a  navi- 
gable course  of  only  about  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  miles. 
The  Washita  in  its  turn  empties  into  the  Red  River,  and  the 
latter  into  the  Mississippi. 

On,  or  about,  the  seventh  day  from  New  Orleans,  the 
steamer  entered  the  Saline,  and  a  few  miles  above  Long  View 
we  landed  on  the  right  bank,  and,  mounting  into  a  well-worn 
buggy,  were  driven  a  few  miles  inland  to  Ingham's  plantation. 

I  am  as  unaware  of  the  real  status  of  my  host  among  his 
neighbours,  as  I  am  of  the  size  of  his  domain.  It  then  ap- 
peared in  my  eyes  immense,  but  was  mostly  a  pine  forest,  in 
the  midst  of  which  some  few  score  of  black  men  had  cleared 
a  large  space  for  planting.  The  house  was  of  solid  pine  logs, 
roughly  squared,  and  but  slightly  stained  by  weather,  and 
neatly  chinked  without  with  plaster,  and  lined  within  with 
planed  boards,  new  and  unpainted  —  it  had  an  air  of  domestic 
comfort. 

My  welcome  from  Mrs.  Ingham  left  nothing  to  be  desired. 
The  slaves  of  the  house  thronged  in  her  train,  and  curtsied 


ADRIFT  AGAIN  147 

and  bobbed,  with  every  token  of  genuine  gladness,  to  the 
'Massa,'  as  they  called  him,  and  then  were  good  enough  to 
include  me  in  their  bountiful  joy.  The  supper  which  had  been 
got  ready  was  something  of  a  banquet,  for  it  was  to  celebrate 
the  return  of  the  planter,  and  was  calculated  to  prove  to  him 
that,  though  New  Orleans  hotels  might  furnish  more  variety, 
home,  after  all,  had  its  attractions  in  pure,  clean,  well-cooked 
viands.  When  the  hearth-logs  began  to  crackle,  and  the  fire- 
light danced  joyfully  on  the  family  circle,  I  began  to  feel  the 
influence  of  the  charm,  and  was  ready  to  view  my  stay  in  the 
western  woods  with  interest  and  content. 

But  there  was  one  person  in  the  family  that  caused  a 
doubt  in  my  mind,  and  that  was  the  overseer.  He  joined  us 
after  supper,  and,  almost  immediately,  I  contracted  a  dislike 
for  him.  His  vulgarity  and  coarseness  revived  recollections  of 
levee  men.  His  garb  was  offensive;  the  pantaloons  stuffed 
into  his  boots,  the  big  hat,  the  slouch  of  his  carriage,  his  rough 
boisterousness,  were  all  objectionable,  and  more  than  all  his 
accents  and  the  manner  of  his  half-patronising  familiarity. 
I  set  him  down  at  once  as  one  of  those  men  who  haunt  liquor- 
saloons,  and  are  proud  to  claim  acquaintance  with  bar-tenders. 
Something  in  me,  perhaps  my  offishness,  may  probably  have 
struck  him  with  equal  repulsion.  Under  pretence  of  weariness 
I  sought  my  bed,  for  the  circle  had  lost  its  charm. 

The  next  day  the  diet  was  not  so  sumptuous.  The  breakfast 
at  seven,  the  dinner  at  noon,  and  the  supper  at  six,  consisted 
of  pretty  much  the  same  kind  of  dishes,  except  that  there  was 
good  coffee  at  the  first  meal,  and  plenty  of  good  milk  for  the 
last.  The  rest  mainly  consisted  of  boiled,  or  fried,  pork  and 
beans,  and  corn  scones.  The  pork  had  an  excess  of  fat  over  the 
lean,  and  was  followed  by  a  plate  full  of  mush  and  molasses. 
I  was  never  very  particular  as  to  my  diet,  but  as  day  after 
day  followed,  the  want  of  variety  caused  it  to  pall  on  the 
palate.  Provided  other  things  had  not  tended  to  make  me 
critical,  I  might  have  gratefully  endured  it,  but  what  affected 
me  principally  were  the  encomiums  lavished  upon  this  style 
of  cookery  by  the  overseer,  who,  whether  with  the  view  of 
currying  favour  with  Mrs.  Ingham,  or  to  exasperate  my  sup- 
pressed squeamishness,  would  bawl  out,  'I  guess  you  can't 
beat  this,  howsumdever  you  crack  up  New  Or-lee-ans.    Give 


148  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

me  a  raal  western  pot-luck,  to  your  darned  fixin's  in  them 
'ar  Mississippi  towns.' 

With  such  society  and  fare,  I  could  not  help  feeling  de- 
pressed, but  the  tall  pine  forest,  with  its  mysterious  lights  and 
shades,  had  its  compensations.  As,  in  process  of  time,  the 
planter  intended  to  extend  his  clearing  and  raise  more  cotton, 
every  tree  felled  assisted  in  widening  the  cultivable  land. 
On  learning  this,  I  asked  and  obtained  permission  to  cut 
down  as  many  trees  as  I  liked,  and,  like  a  ruthless  youth  with 
latent  destructive  propensities,  I  found  an  extraordinary 
pleasure  in  laying  low  with  a  keen  axe  the  broad  pines.  I 
welcomed  with  a  savage  delight  the  apparent  agony,  the 
portentous  shiver  which  ran  from  root  to  topmost  plume,  the 
thunderous  fall,  and  the  wild  recoil  of  its  neighbours,  as  it 
rebounded  and  quivered  before  it  lay  its  still  length.  After 
about  a  score  of  the  pine  monarchs  had  been  levelled,  the 
negroes  at  work  presented  new  features  of  interest.  On  the 
outskirts  of  the  clearing  they  wTere  chopping  up  timber  into 
portable  or  rollable  logs,  some  were  '  toting'  logs  to  the  blazing 
piles,  others  rolled  them  hand  over  hand  to  the  fires,  and  each 
gang  chanted  heartily  as  it  toiled.  As  they  appeared  to  enjoy 
it,  I  became  infected  with  their  spirit  and  assisted  at  the  log- 
rolling, or  lent  a  hand  at  the  toting,  and  championed  my  side 
against  the  opposite.  I  waxed  so  enthusiastic  over  this  manly 
work,  which  demanded  the  exertion  of  every  ounce  of  muscle, 
that  it  is  a  marvel  I  did  not  suffer  from  the  strain ;  its  fierce 
joy  was  more  to  my  taste  than  felling  timber  by  myself.  The 
atmosphere,  laden  with  the  scent  of  burning  resin,  the  roaring 
fires,  the  dance  of  the  lively  flames,  the  excitement  of  the 
gangs  while  holding  on,  with  grim  resolve  and  in  honour 
bound,  to  the  bearing-spikes,  had  a  real  fascination  for  me. 
For  a  week,  I  rose  with  the  darkies  at  the  sound  of  the  over- 
seer's horn,  greeted  the  revivifying  sunrise  with  anticipating 
spirits,  sat  down  to  breakfast  with  a  glow  which  made  the 
Major  and  his  wife  cheerier,  and  then  strode  off  to  join  in  the 
war  against  the  pines  with  a  springy  pace. 

How  long  this  toil  would  have  retained  its  sportive  aspect  for 
me  I  know  not,  but  I  owed  it  to  the  overseer  that  I  ceased  to 
love  it.   He  was  a  compound  of  a  Legree ■  and  Nelson,  with  an 

1  The  cruel  slave-driver,  in  Uncle  I'om's  Cabin,  comparable  with  Nelson,  bully  of 
the  'Windermere.' 


ADRIFT  AGAIN  149 

admixture  of  mannerism  peculiarly  his  own.  It  was  his  duty 
to  oversee  all  the  gangs,  the  hoers,  wood-cutters,  fire-attend- 
ants, log-rollers,  and  toters.  When  he  approached  the  gang 
with  which  I  worked,  the  men  became  subdued,  and  stopped 
their  innocent  chaff  and  play.  He  had  two  favourite  songs  : 
one  was  about  his  'deah  Lucindah,'  and  the  other  about  the 
'chill  winds  of  December/  which  he  hummed  in  a  nasal  tone 
when  within  speaking  distance  of  me,  while  the  cracks  of  his 
'black  snake'  whip  kept  time.  But,  as  he  sauntered  away  to 
other  parts,  I  felt  he  was  often  restive  at  my  presence,  for  it 
imposed  a  certain  restraint  on  his  nature.  One  day,  however, 
he  was  in  a  worse  humour  than  usual.  His  face  was  longer, 
and  malice  gleamed  in  his  eyes.  When  he  reached  us  we  missed 
the  usual  tunes.  He  cried  out  his  commands  with  a  more 
imperious  note.  A  young  fellow  named  Jim  was  the  first 
victim  of  his  ire,  and,  as  he  was  carrying  a  heavy  log  with 
myself  and  others,  he  could  not  answer  him  so  politely  as  he 
expected.  He  flicked  at  his  naked  shoulders  with  his  whip, 
and  the  lash,  flying  unexpectedly  near  me,  caused  us  both  to 
drop  our  spikes.  Unassisted  by  us,  the  weight  of  the  log  was 
too  great  for  the  others,  and  it  fell  to  the  ground  crushing  the 
foot  of  one  of  them.  Meantime,  furious  at  the  indignity,  I  had 
engaged  him  in  a  wordy  contest :  hot  words,  even  threats,  were 
exchanged,  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  cries  of  the  wounded 
man  who  was  held  fast  by  the  log,  we  should  probably  have 
fought.  The  end  of  it  was,  I  retired  from  the  field,  burning  with 
indignation,  and  disgusted  with  his  abominable  brutality. 

I  sought  Major  Ingham,  whom  I  found  reclining  his  length 
in  an  easy-chair  on  the  verandah.  Xot  hearing  the  righteous 
condemnation  I  had  hoped  he  would  express,  and  surprised 
at  his  want  of  feeling,  I  hotly  protested  against  the  cruelty 
of  the  overseer  in  attacking  a  man  while  all  his  strength  was 
needed  to  preserve  others  from  peril,  and  declaimed  against 
him  for  using  a  whip  in  proximity  to  my  ears,  which  made 
the  Major  smile  compassionately  at  my  inexperience  in  such 
matters.  This  was  too  much  for  my  patience,  and  I  then  and 
there  announced  my  intention  to  seek  the  hospitality  of  Mr. 
Waring,  his  neighbour,  as  I  could  not  be  any  longer  the  guest 
of  a  man  who  received  my  complaint  so  unsympathetically. 
On  hearing  me  say  this,  Mrs.  Ingham  came  out  of  the  house, 


150  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

and  expressed  so  much  concern  at  this  sudden  rupture  of  our 
relations  that  I  regretted  having  been  so  hasty,  and  the  Major 
tried  to  explain  how  planters  were  compelled  to  leave  field- 
work  in  charge  of  their  overseer ;  but  it  wTas  too  late.  Words 
had  been  uttered  which  left  a  blister  in  the  mind,  personal 
dignity  had  been  grossly  wounded,  the  Major  had  not  the 
art  of  salving  sores  of  this  kind,  and  I  doggedly  clung  to  my 
first  intentions.  In  another  quarter  of  an  hour  I  had  left  the 
plantation  with  a  small  bundle  of  letters  and  papers,  and  was 
trudging  through  the  woods  to  Mr.  Waring's  plantation. 

We  have  all  our  sudden  likes  and  dislikes.  The  first  view 
of  the  comfortable  homeliness  of  Mr.  Waring's  house  gave  me 
an  impression  of  family  felicity,  and  when  the  old  man  with 
several  smiling  members  of  his  family  came  to  the  door,  it 
appeared  to  me  as  if  it  revived  a  picture  I  had  seen  some- 
where in  Wales,  and  all  my  heart  went  out  to  those  who  were 
in  the  house. 

Strange  to  say,  in  proportion  to  the  period  spent  at  Major 
Ingham's,  I  possess  a  more  vivid  recollection  of  the  night  I 
passed  at  Mr.  Waring's,  and  my  thoughts  have  more  often 
reverted  to  the  more  ancient  house  and  its  snugness  and 
pleasant  details,  than  to  the  other.  As  I  did  not  mention  any- 
thing about  the  causes  of  my  departure  from  his  neighbour's 
plantation,  it  was  tacitly  understood  that  I  was  only  resting 
for  the  night,  previous  to  resuming  my  journey  next  morning, 
and  they  did  not  press  me  to  stay.  I  begged,  however,  Mr. 
Waring  to  do  me  the  favour  to  send  a  buggy  for  my  trunk  the 
next  morning.  When  it  arrived,  I  repacked  it;  and,  leaving  it 
in  his  charge,  I  set  off  on  a  tramp  across  country  to  the  Ar- 
kansas, rejecting  many  an  offer  of  aid  up  to  the  last  minute. 

The  road  wound  up  and  down  pine-clothed  hills,  and,  being 
a  sandy  loam,  was  dry  and  tolerably  smooth.  In  the  hollows 
I  generally  found  a  stream  where  I  quenched  my  thirst,  but 
I  remember  to  have  travelled  a  considerable  distance  for  a 
young  pedestrian  without  meeting  any  water,  and  to  have 
reflected  a  little  upon  what  the  pains  of  dying  from  thirst 
would  be  like.  I  rested  at  a  small  farm-house  that  night ;  and, 
next  morning,  at  an  early  hour,  was  once  more  footing  it 
bravely,  more  elated,  perhaps,  than  my  condition  justified. 
I  regarded  myself  as  being  upon  a  fine  adventure,  the  narra- 


ADRIFT  AGAIN  151 

tion  of  which  would  surprise  my  father.  My  eyes  travelled 
through  far-reaching  colonnades  of  tapering  pine  and  flourish- 
ing oak,  and  for  a  great  part  of  the  time  I  lost  consciousness 
of  my  circumstances,  while  my  mind  was  absorbed  in  interm- 
inable imaginings  of  impossible  discoveries  and  incidents. 
I  saw  myself  the  hero  of  many  a  thrilling  surprise,  and  looked 
dreamily  through  the  shades,  as  though  in  some  places  like 
them  I  would  meet  the  preying  beasts  whom  it  would  be 
my  fortune  to  strike  dead  with  my  staff.  But,  invariably,  on 
being  brought  to  a  proper  sense  of  the  scenes,  and  my  real 
condition,  I  recognized  how  helpless  I  was  against  a  snarling 
catamount,  or  couchant  panther;  I  was  devoutly  thankful 
that  Arkansas  was  so  civilised  that  my  courage  was  in  no  fear 
of  being  tested. 

Just  at  dusk  I  reached  the  Arkansas  River  at  Cypress  Bend, 
having  travelled  about  forty  miles  across  country7,  without 
having  met  a  single  adventure. 

Mr.  Altschul's  store,  at  which  I  was  to  devote  myself  to 
acquiring  the  arts  and  details  of  a  country  merchant's  business, 
was  situate  about  fifty  miles  S.  E.  of  Little  Rock,  and  half- 
way between  Richmond  and  South  Bend.  I  found  no  difficulty 
at  all  in  entering  the  establishment,  for  I  had  no  sooner  in- 
troduced myself  than  I  was  accepted  by  his  family  with  all 
cordiality.  The  store  was,  in  reality,  a  country7  house  of  busi- 
ness. It  stood  isolated  in  a  small  clearing  in  the  midst  of 
Cypress  Grove,  and  was  removed  from  the  dwelling-house  of 
the  family  by  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  It  was  a  long  one-sto- 
ried building  of  solid  logs,  divided  into  four  apartments,  three 
of  which  contained  all  manner  of  things  that  ironmongers, 
gunners,  grocers,  drapers,  stationers,  are  supposed  to  sell; 
the  fourth  room,  at  the  back,  was  used  as  an  office  during 
the  day,  and  as  a  bedroom  at  night,  by  the  clerks  in  charge. 
I  commenced  my  duties  in  November,  i860,  being  warmly 
hailed  as  a  fellow-clerk  by  Mr.  Cronin,  the  salesman,  and  Mr. 
Waldron,  the  assistant-salesman. 

Cronin  was  an  Irishman  from  New  York,  about  thirty 
years  old ;  the  assistant  was  the  son  of  a  small  planter  in  the 
vicinity7.  The  first  was  a  character  for  whom  I  had  a  pitying 
fondness.  One-half  of  him  was  excellent,  all  brightness, 
cleverness,  and  sociability,  the  other  half,  perhaps  the  worse, 


152  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

was  steeped  in  whiskey.  He  was  my  Alphabet  of  the  race  of 
topers.  I  have  never  been  able  to  be  wrathful  with  his  kind, 
they  are  such  miracles  of  absurdity !  Here  and  there  one  may 
meet  a  malignant,  but  they  are  mostly  too  stupid  to  be  hated. 
Cronin  knew  his  duties  thoroughly.  He  was  assiduous,  oblig- 
ing, and  artful  beyond  anything  with  the  ladies.  He  won 
their  confidences,  divined  their  preferences,  and,  with  the 
most  provoking  assurance,  laid  the  identical  piece  of  goods 
they  wanted  before  them,  and  made  them  buy  it.  It  was  a 
treat  to  observe  the  cordial,  and  yet  deferent,  air  with  which 
he  listened  to  their  wishes,  the  deft  assistance  he  gave  to  their 
expression,  his  bland  assents,  the  officious  haste  and  zeal  he 
exhibited  in  attending  on  them,  and  the  ruthless  way  he 
piled  the  counters  with  goods  for  their  inspection.  Sometimes 
I  suspected  he  was  maliciously  making  work  for  me,  for, 
being  the  junior,  I  had  to  refold  the  goods,  and  restore  them 
to  their  places;  but,  in  justice  to  him,  I  must  say  he  nobly 
assisted  in  the  re-arrangement.  Cronin  was  a  born  salesman, 
and  I  have  never  met  his  equal  since. 

The  poorer  class  of  women  he  dazzled  by  his  eloquent  com- 
mendations, his  elaborate  courtesy,  and  the  way  he  made  them 
conceited  with  their  own  superior  knowledge  of  what  was 
genuine  and  rich.  If  the  woman  was  a  coloured  person,  he 
was  benevolent  and  slightly  familiar.  His  small  grey  eyes 
twinkled  with  humour,  as  he  whispered  friendly  advice  as  to 
the  quality  of  the  goods,  and  besieged  her  with  such  atten- 
tions that  the  poor  thing  was  compelled  to  buy. 

With  the  planters,  who  were  of  varying  moods,  Mr.  Cronin 
bore  himself  with  such  rare  good-humour  and  tact,  that  one 
found  a  pleasure  in  watching  the  stern  lips  relax,  and  the 
benignant  look  coming  to  their  gloomy  eyes.  He  would  go 
forward  to  meet  them,  as  they  stepped  across  the  threshold, 
with  hearty  abandon  and  joviality,  put  fervour  into  his  hand- 
shakes, sincerity  into  his  greeting,  and  welcome  into  his  every 
act.  He  anxiously  enquired  after  their  healths,  condoled  with 
them  in  their  fevers,  sympathised  with  them  in  their  troubles 
about  their  cotton-crops,  and  soon  found  excuse  to  draw  them 
to  the  liquor  apartment,  where  he  made  them  taste  Mr. 
Altschul's  latest  importations. 

According  to  Mr.  Cronin,  the  'cobwebs'  were  cleared  by  the 


ADRIFT  AGAIN  153 

preliminary  drink,  and  it  enabled  both  salesman  and  buyer 
to  take  a  cheerier  view  of  things,  and  to  banish  thoughts  that 
would  impede  business.  Naturally,  the  planters  cared  little 
for  cotton-prints  or  jaconets,  though  they  often  carried 
daintily-pencilled  commissions  from  the  ladies  at  home,  which 
Mr.  Cronin  satisfactorily  executed  at  once,  on  the  plea  that 
ladies  must  be  served  first ;  but  when  these  were  disposed  of, 
—  always  with  reverent  regard  for  the  fair  sex,  —  Mr.  Cronin 
flung  oft  his  tenderness  and  became  the  genial  salesman  again. 
Had  the  gentleman  seen  the  new  Californian  saddles,  or  the 
latest  thing  in  rifles,  shot-guns  that  would  kill  duck  at  ninety 
yards?  Those  who  heard  him  expatiate  upon  the  merits  of 
fire-arms  wondered  at  the  earnestness  he  threw  into  his  lan- 
guage, and  at  the  minute  knowledge  he  seemed  to  possess  of 
the  properties  of  each  article.  Or  the  subject  was  saddles.  I 
heard  with  amazement  about  the  comparative  excellencies 
of  the  Californian,  English,  and  cavalry  article,  and  thought 
his  remarks  ought  to  be  printed.  In  this  way,  with  regard 
to  rifles,  I  soon  got  to  know  all  about  the  merits  of  the  Bal- 
lard, Sharp,  Jocelyn  rifles,  their  special  mechanisms,  trajec- 
tory, penetration,  and  range.  If  I  alluded  to  the  revolvers, 
his  face  glowed  with  a  child's  rapture  as  he  dilated  upon  the 
superiority  of  the  Tranter  over  the  Colt,  or  the  old-fashioned 
'pepper-box';  but,  when  he  took  up  a  beautiful  Smith  and 
Wesson,  he  became  intoxicated  with  his  own  bewildering 
fluency,  and  his  gestures  were  those  of  an  oratorical  expert. 
Then  some  other  excuse  would  be  found  for  adjourning  to  the 
liquor  room,  where  he  continued  to  hold  forth  with  his  charm- 
ing persuasiveness,  until  he  succeeded  in  effecting  a  sale  of 
something. 

Mr.  Cronin  was  indeed  an  artist,  but  Mr.  Altschul  did  not 
appreciate  him  as  his  genius  deserved.  The  proprietor  laid 
too  much  stress  upon  his  propensity  to  drink,  which  was 
certainly  incurable,  and  too  little  upon  the  profits  accruing  to 
him  through  his  agency.  He  also  suspected  him  of  gross  fa- 
miliarities with  female  slaves,  which,  in  Mr.  Altschul's  eyes, 
were  unpardonable.  Therefore,  though  he  was  invaluable  to 
me  as  a  model  salesman,  poor  Cronin  was  obliged  to  leave 
after  a  while. 

Waldron  in  a  short  time  found  counter-work  too  irksome 


154  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

and  frivolous  for  his  nature,  and  he  also  left ;  then  two  young 
men,  very  proud  and  high-stomached,  and  not  over-genial  to 
customers,  were  engaged  instead. 

But  by  this  time  I  had  become  sufficiently  acquainted  with 
the  tone  of  the  planter  community  to  be  able  to  do  very  well, 
with  a  few  instructions  from  Mr.  Altschul.  I  had  learned  that 
in  the  fat  cypress  lands  there  was  a  humanity  which  was  very 
different  from  that  complaisant  kind  dwelling  in  cities.  It 
had  been  drawn  from  many  States,  especially  from  the  South. 
The  Douglasses  were  from  Virginia,  the  Crawfords  from  'Old 
Georgia,'  the  Joneses  and  Smiths  from  Tennessee,  the  Gorees 
from  Alabama.  The  poorer  sort  were  from  the  Carolinas, 
Mississippi,  Missouri,  and  Tennessee,  the  professional  men 
and  white  employers  from  a  wider  area  —  which  included 
Europe.  Several  of  the  richer  men  owned  domains  of  from 
six  to  ten  square  miles.  They  lived  like  princelings,  were 
owners  of  hundreds  of  slaves  over  whom  they  were  absolute 
except  as  to  life  or  limb,  and  all  their  environments  catered 
to  their  egotism.  Though  genially  sociable  to  each  other,  to 
landless  people  like  myself  they  conducted  themselves  as 
though  they  were  under  no  obligations.  Such  manners  as 
they  exhibited  were  not  so  much  due  to  neighbourly  good- 
feeling  as  to  their  dislike  of  consequences  which  might  result 
from  a  wanton  offishness.  When  they  emerged  from  their 
respective  territories  to  the  common  view,  their  bearing 
seemed  to  say  that  they  yielded  to  us  every  privilege  belong- 
ing to  free  whites,  but  reserved  to  themselves  the  right  to 
behave  as  they  deemed  fitting  to  their  state,  and  of  airing  any 
peculiarity  unquestioned,  and  unremarked  by  the  commonalty. 
They  were  as  exclusive  as  the  proud  county  families  of  Wales. 

It  may  easily  be  seen,  then,  what  a  sight  our  store  presented 
when  about  a  dozen  magnates  of  this  kind,  fresh  from  their 
cotton  principalities,  and  armed,  cap-a-pie,  each  in  his  own 
peculiar  dress,  assembled  in  it.  In  time,  of  course,  I  became 
used  to  it ;  and,  considering  their  anxieties,  the  malarial  cli- 
mate, and  the  irritating  '  ague-cake,'  they  behaved  well,  on  the 
whole.  Their  general  attitude  was,  however,  stiff  and  con- 
strained. Each  slightly  raised  his  hat  as  he  came  in,  and  their 
'Sirs'  were  more  formal  and  punctilious  than,  as  neighbours 
or  fellow-citizens,  they  ought  to  have  been. 


ADRIFT  AGAIN  155 

My  proud  fellow-clerks  were  disposed  to  think  it  was  the 
dread  of  the  pistol  which  made  them  so  guarded  in  speech  and 
action,  but  I  thought  that  it  was  the  fear  of  compromising 
the  personal  dignity  by  a  disgraceful  squabble  with  men  un- 
taught in  the  forms  of  good  society.  Arkansas  is  sometimes 
known  as  the  Bear  State,  and  many  of  its  people  at  that  time 
were  singularly  bearish  and  rude.  The  self-estimate  of  such 
men  was  sometimes  colossal,  and  their  vanities  as  sensitive  as 
hair-triggers.  None  of  them  could  boast  of  the  piety  of  saints, 
but  nearly  all  had  been  influenced  by  the  religion  of  their 
mothers  —  just  as  much  as  might  enable  them  to  be  dis- 
tinguished from  barbarians.  It  is  wonderful  what  trivial 
causes  were  sufficient  to  irritate  them.  A  little  preoccupation 
in  one's  own  personal  affairs,  a  monosyllabic  word,  a  look  of 
doubt,  or  a  hesitating  answer,  made  them  flare  up  hotly.  The 
true  reason  for  this  excessive  sensitiveness  was  that  they  had 
lived  too  much  within  their  own  fences,  and  the  taciturnity 
engendered  by  exclusiveness  had  affected  their  habits.  How- 
ever amiable  they  might  originally  have  been,  their  isolation 
had  promoted  the  growth  of  egotism  and  self-importance. 
This  is  the  essence  of  'Provincialism,'  wherever  it  is  met  with, 
in  country  or  in  city  life. 

Few  visited  our  store  who  did  not  bear  some  sign  of  the 
pernicious  disease,  which  afflicted  old  and  young  in  the  bot- 
tom-lands of  the  Arkansas.  I  had  not  been  a  week  at  the  store 
before  I  was  delirious  from  the  fever  which  accompanies  ague, 
and,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  was  dieted  on  calomel  and 
quinine.  The  young  physician  of  our  neighbourhood,  who 
boarded  with  Mr.  Altschul,  communicated  to  me  many  par- 
ticulars regarding  the  nature  of  this  plague.  In  the  form 
termed  by  him  'congestive  chills,'  he  had  known  many  cases 
to  terminate  fatally  within  a  few  hours.  Blacks  as  well  as 
whites  were  subject  to  it.  Nothing  availed  to  prevent  an  at- 
tack. The  most  abstemious,  temperate,  prudent  habits  no 
more  prevented  it  than  selfish  indulgence  or  intemperance. 
So,  what  with  isolation  on  their  wide  estates,  their  life  amongst 
obsequious  slaves,  indigestion,  and  inflamed  livers,  their  sur- 
roundings were  not  well  adapted  to  make  our  wealthy  cus- 
tomers very  amiable  or  sociable. 

Though  I  had  a  bowing  acquaintance  with  scores,  only  half- 


156  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

a-dozen  or  so  people  condescended  to  hold  speech  with  me. 
The  mention  of  these  reminds  me  that  one  day  one  of  my 
friends,  named  Newton  Story,  and  myself  were  weighed  in 
the  scales,  and  while  Story,  a  fine  manly  fellow,  weighed 
one  hundred  and  eighty-five  pounds,  I  was  only  ninety-five 
pounds,  —  within  three  pounds  of  seven  stone.  The  frequency 
of  ague  attacks  had  reduced  me  to  skin  and  bone.  It  was  a 
strange  disease,  preceded  by  a  violent  shaking,  and  a  con- 
gealed feeling  as  though  the  blood  was  suddenly  iced,  during 
which  I  had  to  be  half-smothered  in  blankets,  and  surrounded 
by  hot-water  bottles.  After  a  couple  of  hours'  shivering,  a 
hot  fit  followed,  accompanied  by  delirium,  which,  about  the 
twelfth  hour,  was  relieved  by  exhausting  perspiration.  When, 
about  six  hours  later,  I  became  cool  and  sane,  my  appetite 
was  almost  ravenous  from  quinine  and  emptiness.  For  three 
or  four  days  afterwards,  unless  the  fever  was  tertian,  I  went 
about  my  duties  as  before,  when,  suddenly,  a  fit  of  nausea 
would  seize  me,  and  again  the  violent  malady  overpowered 
me.  Such  was  my  experience  of  the  agues  of  the  Arkansas 
swamp-land ;  and,  during  the  few  months  I  remained  at 
Cypress  Bend,  I  suffered  from  them  three  times  a  month. 

The  population  of  the  State  in  that  year  (1861)  was  about 
440,000;  and  I  find,  to  my  astonishment,  that  now  (1895)  it 
is  over  a  million  and  a  quarter,  of  whom  only  about  10,000  are 
foreign-born.  Neither  the  dreadful  ague,  which  exceeds  in 
virulence  the  African  type,  nor  the  Civil  War,  has  been  able 
to  check  the  population.  What  a  hope  for  much-scorned 
Africa  there  is  in  these  figures ! 

But  this  is  a  digression  due  to  my  desire  to  be  just  to  my 
bilious  fellow-sufferers  in  the  swamp-land.  One  of  our  new 
salesmen  was  famous  as  a  violinist,  and  his  favourite  song  and 
tune  was  about  the  'Arkansas  Traveller,'  who,  losing  his  way 
in  one  of  the  sloughy  highways  through  the  swamp,  disap- 
peared in  the  mud  leaving  his  hat  behind  him  to  indicate  the 
spot.  Reflective  people  will  see  in  this  story  another  obstacle 
to  social  intercourse. 

Every  new  immigrant  soon  became  infected  with  the  proud 
and  sensitive  spirit  prevailing  in  Arkansas.  The  poor  American 
settler,  the  Irish  employee,  the  German- Jew  storekeeper,  in  a 
brief  time  grew  as  liable  to  bursts  of  deadly  passion,  or  fits  of 


ADRIFT  AGAIN  157 

cold-blooded  malignity,  as  the  Virginian  aristocrat.  In  New 
Orleans,  and  other  great  cities,  the  social  rule  was  to  give  and 
take,  to  assert  an  opinion,  and  hear  it  contradicted  without 
resort  to  lethal  weapons,  but,  in  Arkansas,  to  refute  a  state- 
ment was  tantamount  to  giving  the  lie  direct,  and  was  likely 
to  be  followed  by  an  instant  appeal  to  the  revolver  or  bowie. 
Sometimes,  an  'if  you  said  so,  then  I  said  so,'  staved  off  the 
bloody  arbitrament,  but  such  folk  were  probably  late  immi- 
grants and  not  old  citizens. 

It  struck  even  a  youth  like  me  as  being  ridiculous  for  a 
servile  German-Jew  pedlar  to  fancy  himself  insulted  by  a 
casual  remark  from  some  mean  and  ill-bred  white,  and  to 
feel  it  necessary  to  face  the  tube  of  a  backwoodsman,  when 
he  might  have  ignored  him  and  his  rudeness  altogether.  It 
was  hard  to  understand  why  he  should  resent  his  honour 
being  doubted,  except  from  a  mistaken  sense  of  his  importance, 
for  the  ill-opinion  of  the  planter  community  he  had  trebly 
earned  already,  by  being  a  trader,  a  foreigner,  and  a  Jew  ;  and 
the  small  portion  of  regard  he  aspired  to  win  by  an  act  of  dar- 
ing bluff  was  not  worth  a  thought,  least  of  all  the  peril  of  his 
life,  or  the  smart  of  a  wound.  With  regard  to  his  'honour/ 
it  seemed  to  bear  a  different  meaning  on  different  banks  of  a 
river.  On  the  eastern  shore  of  the  Mississippi,  it  meant 
probity  in  business ;  on  the  western  shore,  it  signified  popular 
esteem  for  the  punishment  of  a  traducer,  and  he  who  was 
most  prompt  in  killing  anyone  who  made  a  personal  reflection 
obtained  most  honour,  and  therefore  every  pedlar  or  clerk 
in  Arkansas  hastened  to  prove  his  mettle. 

At  South  Bend,  about  nine  miles  below  us,  there  was  a  store- 
keeper who  prided  himself  more  upon  the  'honour'  he  had 
won  as  a  duellist  than  upon  commercial  integrity.  It  was  the 
example  of  his  neighbourhood  which  had  fired  this  abnormal 
ambition,  and,  on  my  arrival  at  the  Arkansas,  his  clerks  had 
begun  to  imitate  him.  The  neighbouring  merchants,  envious 
of  his  fame,  essayed  the  perilous  venture;  and,  at  last,  Mr. 
Altschul  was  smitten  with  the  mania.  There  is  no  doubt  that, 
had  his  courage  been  of  a  more  compact  quality,  he  would 
have  competed  with  the  man  of  South  Bend  for  'honour.' 
He  selected,  however,  the  choicest  of  his  stock  of  Smith  and 
Wesson's  vest-pocket  revolvers,  and  was  lavishly  extra va- 


158  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

gant  with  the  ammunition.  At  the  outset,  he  could  not  resist 
blinking  at  the  flash  of  his  own  pea-shooter,  but,  by  dint  of 
practice,  he  succeeded  in  plugging  a  big  tree  at  twenty  paces. 
Then,  in  an  evil  moment,  his  mounting  spirit  was  inspired  to 
turn  his  pistolette  on  a  motherly  old  sow  which  had  strayed 
among  his  cabbages,  and  he  mortally  wounded  her.  The 
owner  of  the  animal  was  cross  old  Mr.  Hubbard,  a  small 
planter,  who  came  on  an  ambling  mule,  presently,  with  a 
double-barrel  shot-gun,  charged  with  an  awful  number  of 
buck-pellets,  to  interview  Mr.  Altschul.  When  he  returned 
home,  I  inferred,  from  Hubbard's  satisfied  smile,  that  the 
interview  had  not  been  unsatisfactory  to  him.  From  that 
moment  we  noticed  that  Mr.  Altschul  abandoned  pistol 
practice  —  for,  naturally,  the  pistolette  was  not  a  fit  weapon 
to  cope  with  a  shot-gun.  One  of  my  fellow-clerks  remarked 
that  it  was  a  pity  Mr.  Hubbard  had  no  excuse  for  calling  upon 
the  man  at  South  Bend  for  damages. 

If  the  craze  for  shooting  had  been  communicated  to  such  a 
respectable  man  as  Mr.  Altschul,  it  may  be  imagined  what  a 
fascination  pistols  had  for  us  youths.  We  had  hip-pockets 
made  in  our  trousers,  and  the  Smith  and  Wesson  was  re- 
garded as  an  indispensable  adjunct  to  manhood.  Our  leisure 
hours  were  devoted  to  target-practice,  until  my  proficiency 
was  so  great  that  I  could  sever  a  pack-thread  at  twenty 
paces.  Theoretically,  we  were  already  man-slaughterers,  for 
our  only  object  in  practice  was  to  be  expert  in  killing  some 
imaginary  rowdy,  or  burglar.  In  our  rude  world  such  a  person 
might  present  himself  at  any  moment.  The  rowdy  needed 
only  a  little  liquor  to  develop  himself,  and  the  store,  guarded 
only  by  a  boy  at  night,  offered  a  tempting  inducement  to  a 
burglarious  individual.  Among  our  hundred  and  odd  cus- 
tomers there  were  several  who  were  not  over-regardful  of  our 
susceptibilities ;  and  as  my  colleagues  were  of  their  own  kidney, 
and  had  an  acute  sense  of  their  dignity,  there  was  no  saying 
when  a  crisis  might  arise.  Personally,  I  was  not  yet  wrought 
up  to  this  fine  susceptiveness,  though,  probably,  I  had  as 
quick  a  spirit  as  any  fire-eater  in  Arkansas  County.  What  I 
might  do  if  my  patience  was  abused,  or  how  much  bullying 
would  be  required  to  urge  me  to  adopt  the  style  in  vogue,  was, 
however,  as  yet  undetermined.    Of  the  code  of  honour  and 


ADRIFT  AGAIN  159 

usage  I  had  heard  enough,  but  whenever  I  supjfcsed  myself 
to  be  the  object  of  rude  aggression,  the  dire  extreme  made  me 
shrink.  The  contingency  was  a  daily  topic,  but,  when  I  dwelt 
on  the  possibility  of  being  involved,  I  inwardly  held  that 
liquory  ebullience  ought  not  to  be  noticed. 

Among  our  customers  was  a  man  named  Coleman,  a  large, 
loose- jointed  young  fellow,  who  owned  a  plantation  and  some 
twenty  slaves.  At  regular  intervals  he  came  to  make  his  pur- 
chase of  cloth  for  his  slaves,  provisions,  etc.,  and  always  de- 
parted with  a  bottle  of  whiskey  in  each  saddle-bag.  One  day 
he  and  some  chance  acquaintance  had  commenced  a  bottle  of 
Bourbon,  and  under  the  influence  of  the  liquor  he  became  ob- 
jectionable, and  hinted  to  one  of  the  salesmen  that  it  was 
'rot-gut,'  diluted  with  swamp-water.  At  the  commencement 
it  was  taken  to  be  the  rough  pleasantry  of  a  drunken  rustic ; 
but,  as  Coleman  reiterated  the  charge,  the  clerk's  patience 
was  exhausted,  and  he  retorted  that  swamp- water  was  whole- 
some for  drunkards  such  as  he.  After  this,  one  savage  retort 
provoked  another,  and  Coleman  drew  his  revolver;  but,  as 
he  aimed  it,  I  crooked  his  elbow,  and  the  bullet  pierced  the 
roof.  Almost  immediately  after,  the  clerk  had  flung  himself 
against  his  opponent,  and  we  all  three  came  to  the  floor.  Then, 
while  I  clung  to  his  thumb,  to  prevent  his  raising  the  hammer, 
assistance  came  from  the  next  store-room ;  and  the  one  who 
most  efficiently  interfered  was  a  strong  and  stalwart  planter, 
named  Francis  Rush,  for  he  wrenched  the  weapon  from  his 
hand.  There  followed  a  disagreeable  quarter  of  an  hour :  both 
Coleman  and  the  clerk  were  wild  to  get  at  each  other,  but  in 
the  end  we  forced  a  truce.  Coleman's  saddle-bags  were  put 
on  his  horse,  and  I  held  his  stirrups  while  he  mounted.  He 
glared  fiercely  at  me  awhile,  and  then,  after  a  warning  that  I 
had  better  avoid  meddling  with  other  people's  quarrels,  he 
rode  away. 

Coleman  never  returned  to  the  store  again.  Some  weeks 
after  this  event,  I  was  despatched  round  the  neighbourhood 
to  collect  debts,  and  his  name  was  on  my  list.  There  was  an 
ominous  silence  about  his  house  as  I  rode  up,  but,  on  making 
my  way  to  the  negro  quarter  to  make  enquiries,  I  was  told  in 
a  frightened  whisper  that  their  master  had  disappeared  into 
parts  unknown,  after  killing  Francis  Rush. 


1 60  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

An  evening  came  when  the  long-expected  burglarious  ad- 
venture occurred.  Night  had  fallen  by  the  time  I  returned  to 
the  store  from  supper  at  Mr.  Altschul's,  but  there  was  a  moon- 
light which  made  the  dead  timber  in  the  Cypress  Grove 
appear  spectral.  Near  the  main  entrance  to  the  store  was  a 
candle,  which  I  proceeded  to  light  after  entering  the  building. 
Then,  closing  and  dropping  the  strong  bar  across  the  door,  I 
walked  down  the  length  of  the  store  towards  the  office  and  my 
bedroom.  Holding  the  candle  well  up,  I  noticed  as  I  passed 
the  fire-place  a  pile  of  soot  on  the  hearth-stone.  As  it  had  been 
swept  clean  after  the  day's  business,  the  sight  of  it  instantly 
suggested  a  burglar  being  in  the  chimney.  Without  halting,  I 
passed  on  to  the  office,  cast  a  quick  look  at  the  back  door  and 
windows,  and,  snatching  my  little  revolver  from  under  the 
pillow,  retraced  my  steps  to  the  fire-place.  Pointing  the 
weapon  up  the  chimney,  I  cried  out,  '  Look  out,  I  am  about  to 
fire.  After  the  word  "  three"  I  shall  shoot.  One !  two !  —  '  A 
cloud  of  soot  poured  down  on  my  arm,  the  rumble  of  a  hasty 
scramble  was  heard,  and  I  fired  into  the  brick  to  hasten  his 
departure.  I  then  flew  into  the  office,  set  my  candle  upon  a 
chair,  opened  the  back  door,  and  darted  out  in  time  to  see  a 
negro's  head  and  shoulders  above  the  chimney-top.  By  means 
of  threats,  and  a  sufficient  demonstration  with  the  fire-arm,  he 
was  made  to  descend,  and  marched  to  Mr.  Altschul's  house, 
where  he  surrendered  to  the  proprietor.  Except  that  he  was 
severely  bound,  his  treatment  was  respectful,  for  he  repre- 
sented over  a  thousand  dollars,  and  to  injure  him  was  to 
injure  Dr.  Goree,  his  owner,  and  one  of  our  most  respected 
customers. 

Mr.  Altschul  was  an  Israelite  and  kept  open  store  on  Sun- 
day, for  the  benefit  of  the  negroes  around.  The  clerks,  being 
Christians,  were,  of  course,  exempted  from  labour  that  day; 
but,  on  one  special  Sunday,  one  of  our  party  had  volunteered 
to  take  Mr.  Altschul's  place  at  the  counter.  In  the  afternoon, 
he  was  attending  a  clamouring  crowd  of  about  thirty  negroes, 
with  his  counter  littered  with  goods.  As  I  came  in,  I  observed 
that  he  was  not  so  alertly  watchful  as  he  ought  to  have  been, 
with  such  a  number  of  men,  and  so  many  exposed  articles, 
I  sat  down  and  closely  watched,  and  saw  that,  each  time  his 
back  was  turned,  two  men  abstracted  stockings,  thread-spools, 


ADRIFT  AGAIN  161 

and  ribands,  stuffing  them  into  their  capacious  pockets.  After 
considering  the  best  method  of  compelling  restoration,  I  with- 
drew and  called  Simon,  Mr.  Altschul's  burly  slave,  and  in- 
structed him  how  to  assist  me. 

A  few  seconds  after  re-entering  the  store,  the  two  halves  of 
the  front  door  were  suddenly  flung  to,  and  barred,  and  a  cry 
of  'Thieves'  was  raised.  There  was  a  violent  movement 
towards  me,  but  Simon  flourished  a  big  knife  above  his  head, 
and  swore  he  would  use  it,  if  they  did  not  stand  still  and  be 
searched.  Those  who  were  conscious  of  their  innocence  sided 
with  us ;  and  through  their  help  we  turned  out  a  pretty  assort- 
ment of  small  goods,  which  the  clerk,  by  referring  to  his  sales- 
book,  found  had  not  been  sold. 

I  went  out  to  shoot  turtle-doves  one  holiday,  and  aimed  at 
one  on  a  branch  about  thirty  feet  above  the  road,  and  over- 
hanging it.  Almost  immediately  after,  old  Hubbard,  the 
planter,  emerged  into  view  from  round  the  corner,  in  a  tearing 
rage,  and  presented  his  shot-gun  at  me.  Seeing  no  one  else 
near,  and  assuming  that  he  was  under  some  great  mistake,  I 
asked  what  the  matter  was,  upon  which  he  boldly  accused 
me  of  shooting  at  him,  and  he  put  his  hand  to  his  face  to  show 
the  wound.  As  there  was  not  the  slightest  trace  of  even 
a  bruise,  I  laughed  at  him,  as  it  seemed  to  me  that  only  an 
overdose  of  whiskey  could  account  for  such  a  paroxysm  of 
passion. 

Since  my  arrival  at  Auburn  I  had  received  three  letters 
from  my  father  from  Havana,  within  a  period  of  about  nine 
weeks.  Then,  month  after  month  of  absolute  silence  followed. 
The  last  letter  had  stated  that  his  brother  was  convalescent, 
and  that,  in  about  a  month,  he  intended  to  return  to  New 
Orleans,  and  would  then  pay  me  a  visit.  Until  well  into  March, 
1 86 1,  I  was  in  daily  expectation  of  hearing  from  him,  or  seeing 
him  in  person.  But  we  were  destined  never  to  meet  again. 
He  died  suddenly  in  1861  —  I  only  heard  of  his  death  long 
after.  In  the  mean  time,  wholly  unheeded  by  me,  astounding 
national  events  had  occurred.  Several  of  the  Southern  States 
had  openly  defied  the  United  States  Government.  Forts, 
arsenals,  and  ships  of  war  had  been  seized  by  the  revolted 
States,  and,  what  was  of  more  importance  to  me,  the  forts 
below  New  Orleans  had  been  taken  by  the  Louisiana  troops. 


162  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

These  events  were  known  to  readers  of  newspapers  in  Arkan- 
sas, but  the  only  newspaper  taken  at  the  Auburn  store  was  a 
Pine  Bluff  weekly,  which,  as  I  seldom  saw  it,  I  never  imagined 
would  contain  any  news  of  personal  interest  to  me. 

It  was  not  until  March  that  I  began  dimly  to  comprehend 
that  something  was  transpiring  which  would  involve  every 
individual.  Dr.  Goree,  our  neighbour  planter,  happened  to 
meet  Mr.  W.  H.  Crawford,  an  ex-Representative  of  Georgia, 
at  our  store,  and  began  discussing  politics.  Their  determined 
accents  and  resolute  gestures  roused  my  curiosity,  and  I  heard 
them  say  that  the  States  of  Alabama,  Georgia,  Louisiana,  and 
others,  had  already  formed  a  separate  government,  and  that 
one  called  Jeff  Davis  had  been  proclaimed  President  of  the 
new  government ;  and  they  wondered  why  Arkansas  was  so 
slow  to  join  the  Confederates,  etc.,  etc.  This  was  news  to  me, 
and  when  they  unfolded  their  respective  newspapers  and  read 
extracts  from  them,  it  dawned  upon  me  that  if  I  wished  to 
post  myself  upon  the  grave  national  affairs,  I  should  have  to 
read  those  stupid  sheets  which  hitherto  I  had  regarded  as 
being  only  fit  for  merchants  and  bearded  men. 

Thus  stimulated  to  think  that  the  events  of  the  time 
affected  the  people  of  Arkansas  County,  even  youths  like 
myself,  I  began  to  read  the  Pine  Bluff  paper,  and  to  be  more 
inquisitive ;  and  it  was  not  long  before  I  had  a  vague  concep- 
tion that  the  country  was  in  a  terribly  disturbed  state,  and  that 
there  would  be  war,  Notwithstanding  the  information  gleaned 
from  persons  who  gave  themselves  little  trouble  to  satisfy  a 
strange  boy,  it  was  not  until  young  Dan  Goree  returned  from 
Nashville  College  that  I  could  assimilate  properly  all  that  I 
had  heard.  Young  Dan  was  a  boy  of  about  my  own  age,  and 
being  the  son  of  such  a  politician  as  Dr.  Goree,  was  naturally 
much  more  advanced  in  political  matters  than  I.  He  it  was 
who,  in  friendly  converse,  acted  as  my  Mentor,  and  gave  me 
the  first  intelligent  exposition  of  how  affairs  stood  between 
the  two  sections  of  the  Union.  It  was  from  him  I  learned 
that  the  election  of  Abe  Lincoln,  in  the  November  previous, 
had  created  a  hostile  feeling  in  the  South,  because  this  man 
had  declared  himself  opposed  to  slavery ;  and  as  soon  as  he 
became  President,  in  March,  he  would  do  all  in  his  power  to 
free  all  the  slaves.  Of  course,  said  he,  in  that  event  all  slave- 


ADRIFT  AGAIN  163 

holders  would  be  ruined.  His  father  owned  about  one  hundred 
and  twenty  slaves,  worth  from  $500  to  $1200  a  head,  and  to 
deprive  him  of  property  that  he  had  bought  with  cash  was  pure 
robbery.  That  was  the  reason  that  all  the  people  of  the  South 
were  rising  against  the  Northern  people,  and  they  would 
fight,  to  the  last  man.  When  the  State  of  Arkansas  'seceded,' 
then  every  man  and  boy  would  have  to  proceed  to  the  war 
and  drive  those  wretched  Abolitionists  back  to  their  homes, 
which  would  be  an  easy  task,  as  one  Southerner  was  better 
than  ten  of  those  Northern  fellows,  many  of  whom  had  never 
seen  a  gun !  Dan  thought  that  the  boys  of  the  South,  armed 
with  whips,  would  be  quite  sufficient  to  lick  the  thieving 
hounds ! 

I  need  not  pursue  the  theme,  but  it  was  from  such  a  source 
that  I  obtained  my  elementary  lessons  in  American  Politics. 
From  the  time  when,  in  December,  1857,  I  had  read  some 
leaderette  about  the  Louisiana  Legislative  Assembly,  politics 
had  been  repulsively  dry  to  me,  and  newspapers  were  only 
useful  for  their  shipping  and  trade  details. 

Specially  interesting  to  me,  however,  was  it  to  know  that 
Missouri  and  its  metropolis,  St.  Louis,  would  assuredly  join 
the  South ;  though  I  was  saddened  to  learn  that  Cincinnati  and 
Louisville  were  enemies.  What  curious  emotions  that  word 
'enemies'  caused  in  me!  People  I  knew  well,  with  whom  I 
had  worshipped,  boys  with  whom  I  had  contracted  delightful 
friendships  at  Newport  and  Covington,  to  be  enemies !  Then 
I  wondered  how  we  were  to  obtain  our  goods  in  future.  Con- 
signments of  arms,  medicine,  dry-goods,  and  ironware,  had 
come  to  us  from  St.  Louis,  Cincinnati,  and  even  Chicago. 
The  conditions  of  trade  would  be  altogether  altered ! 

It  was  not,  however,  until  I  had  propounded  the  question 
as  to  how  the  seizure  of  the  Mississippi  forts  affected  people 
who  were  abroad,  and  wished  to  return  home,  that  I  under- 
stood how  deeply  involved  I  was  by  this  rupture  of  relations 
between  the  North  and  South.  I  was  told  that  all  communi- 
cation was  stopped,  that  ships  coming  in  from  sea  would  be 
turned  back,  or  else,  if  they  were  permitted  to  come  in  by  the 
cruisers  outside,  would  certainly  not  be  permitted  to  leave; 
that  every  ship  insisting  on  going  to  New  Orleans  would  be 
searched,  and,  if  anything  likely  to  assist  the  enemy  was 


164  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

found,  she  would  be  detained,  and  perhaps  confiscated ;  and 
that,  as  no  vessel  was  permitted  to  enter  the  river,  so  none 
would  have  the  privilege  of  leaving.  Here  was  something 
wholly  unexpected !  My  father  was  shut  out,  and  I  was  shut 
in !  He  could  not  come  to  me,  nor  could  I  join  him.  In  some 
mysterious  way  somebody  had  built  an  impassable  wall 
round  about  us,  and  the  South  was  like  a  jail,  and  its  inhabit- 
ants had  been  deprived  of  the  liberty  of  leaving.  From  the 
moment  that  I  fully  realised  this  fact,  everything  bore  a  dif- 
ferent aspect  to  what  it  had  before.  I  was  a  strange  boy  in  a 
strange  land,  in  the  same  condition  of  friendlessness  as  when 
I  fled  from  the  'Windermere.'  I  had  prepared  myself  to  con- 
vince my  father  that  the  valley  of  the  Arkansas  was  not  a  fit 
place  to  live  in.  My  staring  bones  and  hollow  eyes  should 
speak  for  me,  and  we  would  try  the  Washita  Valley,  or  ascend 
the  Arkansas,  towards  Little  Rock,  where  the  country  was 
healthier,  but  anywhere  rather  than  in  such  a  pestilential 
place  as  the  swamp-land  of  Arkansas.  But  my  intentions 
had  come  to  naught,  my  cherished  hopes  must  be  abandoned. 
I  was  stranded  effectually,  and  I  had  no  option  but  to  remain 
with  Mr.  Altschul. 

It  was  an  evil  hour  to  meditate  any  design  of  a  personal 
nature,  for  the  sentiment  of  the  period  was  averse  from  it. 
The  same  unperceivable  power  that  had  imprisoned  me  in 
the  fever-and-ague  region  of  Arkansas  was  rapidly  becoming 
formidable.  Man  after  man  unresistingly  succumbed  to  its 
influence.  Even  thejwomen  and  children  cried  for  war.  There 
was  no  Fiery  Cross,  buT^rle  wire~flashed  the  news  into  every 
country-place  and  town,  and,  wherever  two  met,  the  talk  was 
all  about  war.  Most  of  the  cotton  States  had  already  seceded, 
and  as  our  State  was  their  sister  in  sentiment,  habit,  and  blood, 
Arkansas  was  bound  to  join  her  sisters,  and  hasten  with  her 
sons  to  the  battle-field,  to  conquer  or  die.  Early  in  May, 
the  State  Representatives  met  at  Little  Rock,  and  adopted 
the  ordinance  of  secession ;  whereupon  the  fighting  spirit  of  the 
people  rose  in  frenzy.  Heroic  sayings,  uttered  by  ancient 
Greek  and  Roman  heroes,  were  mouthed  by  every  stripling. 
The  rich  planters  forgot  their  pride  and  exclusiveness,  and 
went  out  and  orated  among  the  common  folk.  They  flourished 
their  hats  and  canes,  and  cried,  '  Give  us  Liberty,  or  give  us 


ADRIFT  AGAIN  165 

Death  !'  The  young  men  joined  hands  and  shouted,  'Is  there 
a  man  with  soul  so  dead,  Who  never  to  himself  hath  said  — 
This  is  my  own,  my  native  land?'  'An  honourable  death  is 
better  than  a  base  life,'  etc.,  etc.  In  the  strident  tones  of 
passion,  they  said  they  would  welcome  a  bloody  grave  rather 
than  survive  to  see  the  proud  foe  violating  their  altars  and 
their  hearths,  and  desecrating  the  sacred  soil  of  the  South 
with  their  unholy  feet.  But,  inflamed  as  the  men  and  youths 
were,  the  warlike  fire  that  burned  within  their  breasts  was  as 
nothing  to  the  intense  heat  that  glowed  within  the  bosoms  of 
the  women.  No  suggestion  of  compromise  was  possible  in 
their  presence.  If  every  man  did  not  hasten  to  the  battle,  they 
vowed  they  would  themselves  rush  out  and  meet  the  Yankee 
vandals.  In  a  land  where  women  are  worshipped  by  the  men, 
such  language  made  them  war-mad. 

Then  one  day  I  heard  that  enlistment  was  going  on.  Men 
were  actually  enrolling  themselves  as  soldiers!  A  Captain 
Smith,  owner  of  a  plantation  a  few  miles  above  Auburn,  was 
raising  a  Company  to  be  called  the  'Dixie  Greys.'  A  Mr. 
Penny  Mason,  living  on  a  plantation  below  us,  was  to  be  the 
First-lieutenant,  and  Mr.  Lee,  nephew  of  the  great  General 
Lee,  was  to  be  Second-lieutenant.  The  youth  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood were  flocking  to  them  and  registering  their  names. 
Our  Doctor,  —  Weston  Jones,  —  Mr.  Newton  Story,  and  the 
brothers  Varner,  had  enlisted.  Then  the  boy  Dan  Goree  pre- 
vailed upon  his  father  to  permit  him  to  join  the  gallant  braves. 
Little  Rich,  of  Richmond  Store,  gave  in  his  name.  Henry 
Parker,  the  boy  nephew  of  one  of  the  richest  planters  in  the 
vicinity,  volunteered,  until  it  seemed  as  if  Arkansas  County 
was  to  be  emptied  of  all  the  youth  and  men  I  had  known. 

About  this  time,  I  received  a  parcel  which  I  half-suspected, 
as  the  address  was  written  in  a  feminine  hand,  to  be  a  token  of 
some  lady's  regard ;  but,  on  opening  it,  I  discovered  it  to  be  a 
chemise  and  petticoat,  such  as  a  negro  lady's-maid  might 
wear.  I  hastily  hid  it  from  view,  and  retired  to  the  back 
room,  that  my  burning  cheeks  might  not  betray  me  to  some 
onlooker.  In  the  afternoon,  Dr.  Goree  called,  and  was  excess- 
ively cordial  and  kind.  He  asked  me  if  I  did  not  intend  to 
join  the  valiant  children  of  Arkansas  to  fight?  and  I  answered 
'Yes/ 


1 66  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

At  my  present  age,  the  whole  thing  appears  to  be  a  very 
laughable  affair  altogether;  but,  at  that  time,  it  was  far  from 
being  a  laughing  matter.  He  praised  my  courage,  and  my 
patriotism,  and  said  I  should  win  undying  glory,  and  then  he 
added,  in  a  lower  voice,  'We  shall  see  what  we  can  do  for  you 
when  you  come  back.' 

What  did  he  mean  ?  Did  he  suspect  my  secret  love  for  that 
sweet  child  who  sometimes  came  shopping  with  her  mother? 
From  that  confidential  promise  I  believed  he  did,  and  was, 
accordingly,  ready  to  go  anywhere  for  her  sake. 

About  the  beginning  of  July  we  embarked  on  the  steamer 
'Frederick  Notrebe.'  At  various  landings,  as  we  ascended  the 
river,  the  volunteers  crowded  aboard;  and  the  jubilation  of 
so  many  youths  was  intoxicating.  Near  Pine  Bluff,  while 
we  were  making  merry,  singing,  'I  wish  I  was  in  Dixie,'  the 
steamer  struck  a  snag  which  pierced  her  hull,  and  we  sank 
down  until  the  water  was  up  to  the  furnace-doors.  We  re- 
mained fixed  for  several  hours,  but,  fortunately,  the  'Rose 
Douglas'  came  up,  and  took  us  and  our  baggage  safely  up 
to  Little  Rock. 

We  were  marched  to  the  Arsenal,  and,  in  a  short  time, 
the  Dixie  Greys  were  sworn  by  Adjutant-General  Burgevine 
into  the  service  of  the  Confederate  States  of  America  for 
twelve  months.  We  were  served  with  heavy  flint-lock  mus- 
kets, knapsacks,  and  accoutrements,  and  were  attached  to  the 
6th  Arkansas  Regiment  of  Volunteers,  Colonel  Lyons  com- 
manding, and  A.  T.  Hawthorn,  Lieutenant-colonel. 

General  Burgevine  was,  in  later  years,  Commander  of  the 
Mercenaries,  in  the  Imperial  Chinese  army  against  the  Tai- 
pings,  and  an  ally  of  General  (Chinese)  Gordon,  at  one  time. 
Dismissed  by  the  Imperialists,  he  sought  the  service  of  the 
Taipings.  Wearied  of  his  new  masters,  he  conceived  a  project 
of  dethroning  the  Emperor,  and  reigning  in  his  stead ;  he  went 
so  far  as  to  try  and  tempt  Gordon  to  be  his  accomplice ! 


CHAPTER  VII 
SOLDIERING 

I  AM  now  about  to  begin  a  period  lasting  about  six  years, 
which,  were  it  possible,  I  should  gladly  like  to  re-live, 
not  with  a  view  of  repeating  its  woes  and  errors,  pains 
and  inconsistencies,  but  of  rectifying  the  mistakes  I  made. 
So  far,  I  had  made  none  of  any  importance ;  but  enlisting  in 
the  Confederate  service,  because  I  received  a  packet  of  female 
clothes,  was  certainly  a  grave  blunder.  But  who  is  able  to 
withstand  his  fate  or  thwart  the  designs  of  Providence?  It 
may  have  been  time  for  me,  getting  close  on  to  eighteen,  to 
lose  some  of  the  soft  illusions  of  boyhood,  and  to  undergo  the 
toughening  process  in  the  trail  of  war.  Looking  backward 
upon  the  various  incidents  of  these  six  years,  though  they 
appear  disjointed  enough,  I  can  dimly  see  a  connection,  and 
how  one  incident  led  to  the  other,  until  the  curious  and  some- 
what involved  design  of  my  life,  and  its  purpose,  was  con- 
summated. But  this  enlistment  was,  as  I  conceive  it,  the  first 
of  many  blunders;  and  it  precipitated  me  into  a  veritable 
furnace,  from  which  my  mind  would  have  quickly  recoiled, 
had  I  but  known  what  the  process  of  hardening  was  to  be. 
Just  as  the  fine  edge  of  boyish  sensitiveness  was  blunted, 
somewhat,  by  the  daring  blasphemy  of  the  'Windermere' 
officers,  so  modesty  and  tenderness  were  to  be  shocked,  by 
intercourse  with  men  who  cast  off  sweet  manners  with  their 
civilian  clothes,  and  abandoned  themselves  to  the  rude  style 
of  military7  life.  A  host  of  influences  were  at  work  sapping 
moral  scruples.  The  busy  days,  the  painful  events,  the  excite- 
ment of  the  camp,  the  general  irreligiousness,  the  disregard 
of  religious  practice,  the  contempt  for  piety,  the  licentious 
humours  of  the  soldiers,  the  reckless  and  lavish  destruction  of 
life,  the  gluttonous  desire  to  kill,  the  devices  and  stratagems 
of  war,  the  weekly  preaching  in  defence  of  it,  the  example  of 
my  elders  and  superiors,  the  enthusiasm  of  beautiful  women 
for  strife  —  finally,  all  that  was  weak,  vain,  and  unfixed  in 


168  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

my  own  nature,  all  conspired  to  make  me  as  indifferent  as  any 
of  my  fellows  to  all  sacred  duties. 

I  had  to  learn  that  that  which  was  unlawful  to  a  civilian 
was  lawful  to  the  soldier.  The  'Thou  shalt  not'  of  the  Deca- 
logue, was  now  translated  'Thou  shalt.'  Thou  shalt  kill,  lie, 
steal,  blaspheme,  covet,  and  hate;  for,  by  whatever  fine 
names  they  were  disguised,  everyone  practised  these  acts, 
from  the  President  down  to  the  private  in  the  rear  rank.  The 
prohibition  to  do  these  things  was  removed,  and  indulgence 
in  licence  and  excess  was  permissible.  My  only  consolation, 
during  this  curious  'volte-face'  in  morality,  was,  that  I  was 
an  instrument  in  the  strong,  forceful  grip  of  circumstance,  and 
could  no  more  free  myself  than  I  could  fly. 

Heaven  knows  if  any  among  the  Dixie  Greys  can  look  at 
the  acts  of  the  war  with  my  eyes.  Not  having  been  educated 
as  I  had  been,  nor  become  experienced  aftenvards  in  the  ways 
of  many  lands,  it  is  not  likely  any  of  them  would.  Many  of 
them  went  to  the  war  as  passionate  patriots  in  the  spirit  of 
religious  duty,  blessed  by  their  families ;  others  with  an  appe- 
tite for  glory,  the  desire  of  applause,  a  fondness  for  military 
excitement,  or  because  they  were  infected  with  the  general 
craze,  or  to  avoid  tedious  toil,  or  from  the  wildness  of  youth, 
etc.  It  was  passionate  patriotism  that  was  the  rule,  and 
brought  to  its  standard  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men; 
and  it  was  this  burning  passion  that  governed  all  conduct, 
and  moulded  public  life  to  its  will. 

Now  all  men  who  knew  our  brigade  commander  will  con- 
cede that,  whatever  virtues  he  may  have  had,  ambition  was 
his  distinguishing  characteristic.  It  was  commonly  said  that 
he  was  a  man  of  genius,  could  command  a  Department,  or  be 
a  first-class  Minister  of  War;  but,  from  what  I  can  recollect 
of  him,  he  aimed  at  the  highest  office  in  the  land,  and  was 
sufficiently  unscrupulous  to  establish  himself  as  a  dictator. 
Colonel  Lyons  was  purely  and  simply  a  soldier :  Lieutenant- 
colonel  A.  T.  Hawthorn  was  too  vain  of  military  distinction, 
and  the  trappings  of  official  rank,  to  have  stooped  to  be  a 
patriot  in  the  ranks ;  but  Captain  S.  G.  Smith  was  a  patriot 
of  the  purest  dye,  of  the  most  patrician  appearance,  one  of 
the  finest  and  noblest  types  of  men  I  have  ever  met :  a  man 
of  stubborn  honour  and  high  principles,  brave,  and  invariably 


SOLDIERING  169 

gentle  in  demeanour  and  address.  Our  First-lieutenant  was  a 
Mr.  Penny  Mason,  a  Virginian,  bright,  soldierly,  zealous,  and 
able,  and  connected  with  the  oldest  families  of  his  State.  He 
rose,  as  his  military  merits  deserved,  to  the  rank  of  Adjutant- 
general.  Our  Second-lieutenant  was  a  nephew  of  General  Lee, 
who  in  the  soldiers'  parlance  was  a  'good  fellow.'  He  also 
became  distinguished  during  the  war.  Our  Third-lieutenant 
was  a  '  dandy,'  who  took  immense  trouble  with  his  appearance, 
and  was  always  as  neat  as  a  military  tailor  and  the  laundry 
could  make  him.  Our  Orderly-sergeant  was  an  old  soldier  of 
the  name  of  Armstrong,  an  honest  and  worthy  fellow,  who 
did  his  duty  with  more  good-humour  and  good-nature  than 
would  have  been  expected  under  the  circumstances. 

The  privates  were,  many  of  them,  young  men  of  fortune, 
sons,  or  close  relations,  of  rich  Arkansas  planters  of  independ- 
ent means ;  others  were  of  more  moderate  estate,  overseers  of 
plantations,  small  cotton-growers,  professional  men,  clerks,  a 
few  merchants,  and  a  rustic  lout  or  two.  As  compared  with 
many  others,  the  company  was  a  choice  one,  the  leaven  of 
gentlehood  was  strong,  and  served  to  make  it  rather  more 
select  than  the  average.  Still,  we  were  only  a  tenth  of  a  regi- 
ment, and,  though  a  fifth  of  the  regiment  might  be  self-re- 
specting, gentlemanly  fellows,  daily  contact  in  camp  with  a 
majority  of  rough  and  untaught  soldiers  is  apt  to  be  pervert- 
ing in  time. 

We  were  not  subjected  to  the  indignity  of  being  stripped  and 
examined  like  cattle,  but  were  accepted  into  the  military 
service  upon  our  own  assurance  of  being  in  fit  condition ;  and, 
after  being  sworn  in,  we  shed  our  civil  costumes,  and  donned 
the  light  grey  uniforms.  Having  been  duly  organized,  we  next 
formed  ourselves  into  messes.  My  mess  consisted  of  Jim 
Armstrong,  the  Orderly-sergeant ;  Xewton  Story,  the  Colour- 
sergeant,  who  had  been  overseer  of  Dr.  Goree's  plantation ; 
Dan  Goree,  a  boy,  the  son  and  heir  of  Dr.  Goree ;  Tom  Malone, 
a  genial  fellow,  but  up  to  every  gambling  trick,  a  proficient  in 
'High-low-jack,'  Euchre,  Poker,  and  Old  Sledge,  and,  when 
angered,  given  to  deliver  himself  in  very  energetic  language; 
old  Slate,  knowing  as  any,  anecdotive,  and  pleasant.  Tomas- 
son,  a  boisterous  fellow,  who  acted  frequently  like  a  bull  in  a 
china-shop,  was  admitted  by  Armstrong  to  the  mess  because 


SOLDIERING  171 

when  we  promenaded  the  streets,  with  equal  step  and  arm-in- 
arm, we  detected  the  presence  of  cambric  frocks  on  a  'stoep/ 
or  in  some  classic  porch,  we  became  as  ridiculous  as  peacocks 
from  excess  of  vanity.  Indeed,  in  those  early  days,  we  were  all 
over-troubled  with  patriotic  thrills,  sanguinary  ardour,  and 
bursts  of  '  bulliness.'  The  fever  of  military  enthusiasm  was  at 
its  height,  in  man,  woman,  and  child;  and  we,  who  were  to 
represent  them  in  the  war,  received  far  more  adulation  than 
was  good  for  us.  The  popular  praise  turned  our  young  heads 
giddy,  and  anyone  who  doubted  that  we  were  the  sanest, 
bravest,  and  most  gallant  boys  in  the  world,  would  have  been 
in  personal  danger !  Unlike  the  Spartans,  there  was  no  mod- 
esty in  the  estimate  of  our  own  valour.  After  a  few  drills,  we 
could  not  even  go  to  draw  rations  without  the  practice  of  the 
martial  step,  and  crying  out  'Guide  centre,'  or  'Right  wheel,' 
or  some  other  order  we  had  learned.  At  our  messes,  we  talked 
of  tactics,  and  discussed  Beauregard's  and  Lee's  merits, 
glorified  Southern  chivalry,  and  depreciated  the  Yankees, 
became  fluent  in  the  jargon  of  patriotism,  and  vehement  in 
our  hatred  of  the  enemy.  Few  of  us  had  ever  smelled  the  fumes 
of  battle,  but  that  did  not  deter  us  from  vividly  painting 
scenes  of  carnage  when  the  blood  rolled  in  torrents,  and  the 
favoured  'Dixie  Greys'  led  the  van  to  victory. 

Our  martial  souls  were  duly  primed  for  the  field  by  every 
adjunct  of  military  system.  The  fife,  drum,  and  trumpet 
sounded  many  times  a  day.  A  fine  brass  band  thrilled  us, 
morning  and  evening,  with  stirring  music.  The  drum  and 
fife  preceded  us  to  the  drilling-ground,  and  inspired  us  to 
sprightliness,  campward.  We  burnished  brass  buttons,  arms, 
and  accoutrements,  until  they  shone  like  new  gold.  We 
bought  long  Colt's  revolvers,  and  long-bladed  bowie-knives ; 
we  had  our  images  taken  on  tin-types  in  our  war-paint  and 
most  ferocious  aspects,  revolver  in  one  hand,  bowie-knife  in 
the  other,  and  a  most  portentous  scowl  between  the  eyebrows. 
We  sharpened  the  points  of  our  bayonets,  and  gave  a  razor- 
edge  to  our  bowies,  that  the  extermination  we  intended  should 
be  sudden  and  complete. 

After  a  few  weeks  we  made  our  last  march  through  the 
Arkansan  capital.  The  steamer  was  at  the  river-side,  to  take 
us  across.  The  streets  were  gay  with  flags  and  ladies'  dresses. 


172  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

The  people  shouted,  and  we,  raw  and  unthinking,  responded 
with  cheers.  We  raised  the  song,  '  We  '11  live  and  die  for  Dixie,' 
and  the  emotional  girls  waved  their  handkerchiefs  and  wept. 
What  an  imposing  column  we  made!  The  regiment  was  in 
full  strength.  The  facets  of  light  on  our  shining  muskets  and 
bayonets  were  blinding.  Banners  of  regiments  and  companies 
rustled  and  waved  to  the  breeze.  We  strode  down  to  the 
levee  with  'eyes  front,'  after  the  manner  of  Romans  when 
reviewed  by  their  tribunes ! 

Once  across  the  river,  that  August  day,  we  strapped  our 
knapsacks,  slung  our  haversacks  and  water-canteens,  and  felt 
more  like  veterans.  All  being  ready,  our  physically-noble 
Colonel  Hawthorn,  prancing  on  his  charger,  drew  his  bright 
sword,  and,  after  he  had  given  us  a  sufficiently  stern  glance, 
rode  to  the  head  of  the  regiment ;  the  brass  band  struck  up  a 
lively  tune,  and  we  swung  gaily  in  column  of  four  along  the 
pike,  towards  the  interior.  Our  officers  and  orderly  walked 
parallel  with  us.  The  August  sun  was  extremely  hot,  the  pike 
was  hard,  dry,  and  dusty.  At  first,  the  officers'  voices  had  a 
peremptory  and  sharp  ring  in  them  as  they  sang  out,  'Keep 
step,  there !  Left  shoulder,  shift  arms !  Dress  up !'  but  after 
a  while,  as  the  heat  began  to  force  a  copious  perspiration,  and 
the  limy  dust  from  the  metalled  highway  parched  our  throats, 
they  sobered  down,  and  allowed  us  to  march  at  ease. 

Within  an  hour  the  sweat  had  darkly  stained  our  grey  coats 
about  the  arm-pits  and  shoulders,  and  it  rolled  in  streams 
down  our  limbs  into  our  boots,  where,  mingling  with  the  dust 
and  minute  gravel,  it  formed  a  gritty  mud  which  distressed 
our  feet.  Our  shoulders  ached  with  the  growing  weight  and 
hardness  of  the  muskets,  our  trousers  galled  us  sorely,  the 
straps  and  belts  became  painfully  constrictive,  and  impeded 
respiration,  but,  through  fear  of  shame,  we  endured  all,  with- 
out complaint.  At  the  end  of  the  hour  we  were  halted  for  five 
minutes'  rest,  and  then  resumed  the  march. 

Like  all  new  recruits,  we  carried  a  number  of  things  that 
veterans  dispense  with :  for  instance,  keepsakes,  and  personal 
treasures ;  mine  were  a  daguerreotype  of  my  adopted  father, 
and  a  lock  of  his  grey  hair,  —  very  trivial  and  valueless  to 
others,  but  my  own  peculiar  treasures,  carried  in  my  knap- 
sack to  be  looked  at  every  Sunday  morning  when  we  smart- 


SOLDIERING  173 

ened  up.  With  these,  toilet  articles,  soap,  changes  of  under- 
clothing, camp-shoes,  etc.,  besides  extra  uniform,  and  blankets, 
made  up  our  luggage,  which,  with  heavy  musket,  bayonet- 
accoutrements,  and  canteen  of  water,  weighed  about  sixty 
pounds,  and  more,  in  some  cases.  For  growing  and  lean 
youths  this  was  a  tremendous  weight ;  and,  during  the  second 
hour,  the  sense  of  oppression  and  soreness  rapidly  increased ; 
but,  excepting  more  frequent  changes  of  the  musket  from 
shoulder  to  shoulder,  we  bated  nothing  of  our  resolve  to 
endure. 

After  the  second  halt  we  were  sensibly  lamer.  The  gravel 
created  blisters,  and  the  warm  mud  acted  like  a  poultice  on  the 
feet.  The  military  erectness  gave  way  to  a  weary  droop,  and 
we  leaned  forward  more.  We  were  painfully  scalded,  rest- 
lessly shifted  our  weapons,  and  tried  scores  of  little  experi- 
ments, hustled  our  cartridge-pouches,  inch  by  inch,  then  from 
back  to  front,  from  right  to  left ;  tugged  at  our  breast-straps, 
eased  our  belts,  drank  copious  draughts  of  water ;  and  still  the 
perspiration  rolled  in  a  shower  down  our  half-blinded  faces, 
and  the  symptoms  of  collapse  became  more  and  more  pro- 
nounced. 

Finally,  the  acutest  point  of  endurance  was  reached,  and 
nature  revolted.  Our  feet  were  blistered,  our  agonies  were 
unendurable,  and,  despite  official  wrarning  and  menace,  we 
hopped  to  the  road-side,  whipped  off  our  boots  to  relieve  our 
burning  feet ;  after  a  little  rest,  we  rose  and  limped  after  the 
company.  But  the  column  had  stretched  out  to  a  tremendous 
length  with  its  long  wagon-train,  and  to  overtake  our  friends 
seemed  hopeless.  As  we  limped  along,  the  still  untired  soldiers 
mocked  and  jeered  at  us,  and  this  was  very  hard  to  endure. 
But,  by  and  by,  the  stragglers  became  more  numerous;  the 
starch  appeared  to  be  taken  out  of  the  strongest,  and,  the 
longer  the  march  continued,  the  greater  was  the  multitude  of 
the  weary,  who  crawled  painfully  in  the  rear  of  the  column. 

Had  the  Little  Rock  ladies  witnessed  our  arrival  at  camp 
late  at  night,  we  should  have  been  shamed  for  ever.  But, 
fortunately,  they  knew  nothing  of  this ;  and  blessing  the  night 
which  hid  our  roasted  faces  and  sorry  appearance,  we  had  no 
sooner  reached  the  precincts  of  the  camp  than  we  embraced 
the  ground,  pains  and  aches  darting  through  every  tortured 


174  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

limb,  feet  blistered  and  bleeding,  our  backs  scorched,  and  our 
shoulders  inflamed.  No  bed  that  I  had  ever  rested  on  gave 
me  a  tithe  of  the  pleasure  afforded  me  now  by  the  cold,  damp 
pasture-land. 

The  next  day  was  a  halt.  Many  of  us  were  more  fitted  for 
hospital  at  day-break  than  for  marching,  but,  after  a  bathe  in 
the  stream,  a  change  of  linen,  and  salving  our  wounds,  we  were 
in  better  mood.  Then  Armstrong,  the  old  orderly,  suggested 
that  we  should  shed  our  knapsacks  of  all  'rubbish,'  and  as- 
sisted his  friends  by  his  advice  as  to  what  was  indispensable 
and  what  was  superfluous.  The  camp-fires  consumed  what  we 
had  rejected,  and,  when  we  noted  the  lightened  weight  of  our 
knapsacks  after  this  ruthless  ransackment,  we  felt  fitter  for  the 
march  than  on  the  day  we  departed  from  the  Arkansas  River. 

Our  surroundings  at  camp  were  novel  for  inexperienced 
youths.  We  were  tented  along  the  road-side,  having  taken 
down  the  fences  of  a  field,  and  encroached  on  farm-lands, 
without  asking  permission.  The  rails  were  also  freely  used 
by  us  as  firewood.  A  town  of  canvas  had  risen  as  if  by  magic, 
with  broad,  short  streets,  between  the  company  tents ;  and  in 
the  rear  were  located  the  wagons  carrying  provisions,  am- 
munition, and  extra  equipments. 

In  a  few  days  we  were  camped  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Searcy,  about  sixty  miles  from  Little  Rock.  The  aspect  of 
the  country  was  lovely,  but  there  was  something  fatal  to 
young  recruits  in  its  atmosphere.  Within  two  weeks  an  epi- 
demic carried  off  about  fifty,  and  quite  as  many  more  lay  in 
hospital.  Whether  it  was  the  usual  camp  typhus,  or  malarious 
fever,  aggravated  by  fatigue  and  wretched  rations,  I  was  too 
young  to  know  or  to  concern  myself  about ;  but,  in  the  third 
week,  it  seemed  to  threaten  us  all,  and  I  remember  how  the 
soldiers  resorted  to  the  prayer-meetings  in  each  company,  and 
how  solemn  they  were  at  service  on  Sunday.  The  pressure  of 
an  impending  calamity  lay  heavy  upon  us  all  while  in  camp, 
but,  as  soon  as  we  left  it,  we  recovered  our  spirits. 

It  was  at  this  camp  I  acquired  the  art  of  diving.  At  swim- 
ming I  was  a  proficient  a  long  time  before,  but  the  acquisition 
of  this  last  accomplishment  soon  enabled  me  to  astonish  my 
comrades  by  the  distance  I  could  traverse  under  water. 

The  brigade  of  General  Hindman  was  at  last  complete  in  its 


SOLDIERING  175 

organisation,  and  consisted  of  four  regiments,  some  cavalry, 
and  a  battery  of  artillery.  About  the  middle  of  September  we 
moved  across  the  State  towards  Hickman  on  the  Mississippi, 
crossing  the  Little  Red,  White,  Big  Black,  and  St.  Francis 
Rivers,  by  the  way.  Once  across  the  Mississippi,  we  marched 
up  the  river,  and,  in  the  beginning  of  November,  halted  at 
what  was  then  called  'the  Gibraltar  of  the  Mississippi.' 

On  the  7th  of  November,  we  witnessed  our  first  battle, 
—  that  of  Belmont,  —  in  which,  however,  we  were  not  parti- 
cipants. We  were  held  in  readiness  on  the  high  bluffs  of 
Columbus,  from  whence  we  had  a  commanding  view  of  the 
elbow  of  land  nearly  opposite,  whereon  the  battle  took  place. 
The  metaphor  'Gibraltar'  might,  with  good  reason,  be  applied 
to  Columbus,  for  General  Polk  had  made  notable  exertions  to 
make  it  formidable.  About  one  hundred  and  forty  cannon,  of 
large  and  small  calibre,  had  been  planted  on  the  edge  of  the 
steep  and  tall  bluffs  opposite  Belmont,  to  prevent  the  descent 
of  the  river  by  the  enemy. 

A  fleet  of  vessels  was  discerned  descending,  a  few  miles 
above  Belmont,  and  two  gun-boats  saucily  bore  down  and 
engaged  our  batteries.  The  big  guns,  some  of  them  128- 
pound  Parrott-rifled,  replied  with  such  a  storm  of  shell  that 
they  were  soon  obliged  to  retreat  again ;  but  we  novices  were 
delighted  to  hear  the  sound  of  so  many  cannon.  We  received 
a  few  shots  in  return,  but  they  were  too  harmless  to  do  more 
than  add  to  the  charm  of  excitement.  The  battle  began  at 
between  ten  and  eleven  in  the  morning,  the  sky  then  being 
bright,  and  the  day  gloriously  sunny ;  and  it  continued  until 
near  sunset.  Except  by  the  volleying  thick  haze  which  settled 
over  the  woods,  we  could  not  guess  what  was  occurring.  The 
results  were,  on  our  side,  under  General  Polk,  641  killed, 
wounded,  and  missing.  On  the  Federal  side,  under  General 
Grant,  the  loss  was  610  killed,  wounded,  and  missing.  To  add 
to  our  casualties,  a  128-pound  rifled-gun  burst  at  our  bat- 
tery, by  which  seven  of  the  gunners  were  killed,  and  General 
Polk  and  many  of  his  officers  were  wounded. 

A  youth  requires  to  be  educated  in  many  ways  before  his 
manhood  is  developed.  We  have  seen  what  a  process  the 
physical  training  is,  by  the  brief  description  of  the  first  day's 
march.    It  takes  some  time  to  bring  the  body  to  a  suitable 


176  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

state  for  ungrudging  acceptance  of  the  hard  conditions  of 
campaigning,  so  that  it  can  find  comfort  on  a  pike,  or  in  a 
graveyard,  with  a  stone  for  a  pillow,  and  ease  on  clods,  despite 
drenching  rain  and  chilling  dew.  Then  the  stomach  has  to 
get  accustomed  to  the  soldier's  diet  of  fried,  or  raw,  bacon  and 
horse-beans.  The  nerves  have  to  be  inured  to  bear,  without 
shrinking,  the  repeated  shocks  and  alarms  of  the  camp.  The 
spirit  has  to  be  taught  how  to  subject  itself  to  the  spurns  and 
contumely  of  superior  and  senior,  without  show  of  resentment ; 
and  the  mind  must  endure  the  blunting  and  deadening  of  its 
sensibilities  by  the  hot  iron  of  experience. 

During  the  long  march  from  Little  Rock  to  Columbus  we 
became  somewhat  seasoned,  and  campaigning  grew  less  and 
less  unpleasant.  Our  ordinary  march  was  now  more  in  the 
nature  of  an  agreeable  relief  from  monotonous  camp-duties. 
We  were  not  so  captious  and  ready  to  take  offence  as  at  first, 
and  some  things  that  were  once  most  disagreeable  were  now 
regarded  as  diversions. 

I  now  fully  accepted  it  as  a  rule  that  a  soldier  must  submit 
to  military  law ;  but  many,  like  myself,  had  lost  a  great  deal  of 
that  early  enthusiasm  for  a  soldier's  life  by  the  time  we  had 
reached  Columbus.  It  had  struck  us  when  at  picket-duty 
alone,  in  the  dark,  that  we  had  been  great  fools  to  place  our- 
selves voluntarily  in  a  position  whence  wre  could  not  retreat 
without  forfeit  of  life ;  and  that,  by  a  monosyllable,  we  had 
made  our  comrades  our  possible  enemies  upon  a  single  breach 
of  our  oath.  We  had  condemned  ourselves  to  a  servitude  more 
slavish  than  that  of  the  black  plantation-hands,  about  whose 
condition  North  and  South  had  declared  war  to  the  death. 
We  could  not  be  sold,  but  our  liberties  and  lives  were  at  the 
disposal  of  a  Congress  about  which  I,  at  least,  knew  nothing, 
except  that,  somewhere,  it  had  assembled  to  make  such  laws 
as  it  pleased.  Neither  to  Captain  Smith,  nor  to  Lieutenant 
Mason,  nor  even  to  my  messmate  Armstrong,  could  I  speak 
with  freedom.  Any  of  them  might  strike  me,  and  I  should 
have  to  submit.  They  could  make  me  march  where  they 
pleased,  stand  sentry  throughout  the  night,  do  fatigue-duty 
until  I  dropped,  load  my  back  as  they  would  a  mule,  ride  me 
on  a  rail,  make  a  target  of  me  if  I  took  a  quiet  nap  at  my  post ; 
and  there  was  no  possible  way  out  of  it. 


SOLDIERING  177 

To  say  the  truth,  I  had  not  even  a  desire  to  shirk  the  duties 
I  had  undertaken.  I  was  quite  prepared  and  ready  to  do  all 
that  was  required ;  for  I  loved  the  South  because  I  loved  my 
Southern  friends,  and  had  absorbed  their  spirit  into  every 
pore.  Nevertheless,  when  far  removed  from  the  hubbub  of 
camp,  at  my  isolated  post,  my  reason  could  not  be  prevented 
from  taking  a  cynical  view  of  my  folly  in  devoting  myself  to 
be  food  for  powder,  when  I  might  have  been  free  as  a  bird,  to 
the  extent  of  my  means.  And  if,  among  my  vague  fancies,  I 
had  thought  that,  by  gallantry,  I  might  win  promotion  such  as 
would  be  some  compensation  for  the  sacrifice  of  my  liberty, 
that  idea  had  been  exploded  as  soon  as  I  had  measured  myself 
by  hundreds  of  cleverer,  abler,  and  braver  men,  and  saw  that 
they,  even,  had  no  chance  of  anything  but  to  fill  a  nameless 
grave.  The  poetry  of  the  military  profession  had  departed 
under  the  stress  of  many  pains,  the  wear  and  tear,  and  the 
certainty  that  soldiering  was  to  consist  of  commonplace 
marches,  and  squalid  camp-life. 

The  punishment  inflicted  on  such  as  were  remiss  in  their 
duties  during  the  march  had  opened  my  eyes  to  the  conse- 
quences of  any  misdemeanour,  or  an  untimely  ebullience  of 
youthful  spirits.  I  had  seen  unfortunate  culprits  horsed  on 
triangular  fence-rails,  and  jerked  up  by  vicious  bearers,  to 
increase  their  pains;  others,  straddled  ignominiously  on  poles; 
or  fettered  with  ball  and  chain ;  or  subjected  to  head-shaving ; 
or  tied  up  with  the  painful  buck  and  gag ;  or  hoisted  up  by  the 
thumbs;  while  no  one  was  free  of  fatigue-duty,  or  exempt 
from  fagging  to  someone  or  other,  the  livelong  day. 

Those  who  were  innocent  of  all  breaches  of  '  good  order  and 
discipline'  had  reason  to  lament  having  sacrificed  their  inde- 
pendence, for  our  brigade-commander,  and  regimental  officers, 
were  eaten  up  with  military  zeal,  and  were  resolved  upon 
training  us  to  the  perfection  of  soldierly  efficiency,  and,  like 
Bully  Waters  of  the  '  Windermere,'  seemed  to  think  that  it  was 
incumbent  on  them  to  get  the  full  value  of  our  keep  and  pay 
out  of  us.  They  clung  to  the  antiquated  notion  that  soldiers 
were  appointed  as  much  to  drudge  for  their  personal  service 
as  for  the  purposes  of  war.  Besides  the  morning  and  evening 
musters,  the  nine  o'clock  dress-parade,  the  drill  from  that  hour 
to  noon,  the  cleaning  of  arms  and  accoutrements,  the  frequent 


i78  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

interruptions  of  rest  by  the  'long  roll'  heard  in  the  dead  of 
night,  the  guard-duty,  or  picket,  we  had  to  cook  our  provi- 
sions, put  up  the  officers'  tents,  make  their  beds  soft  as  straw 
and  hay  or  grass  could  make  them,  collect  fuel  for  their 
fires,  dig  ditches  around  their  tents,  and  fag  for  them  in  num- 
berless ways.  These  made  a  mighty  list  of  harassments, 
which,  on  account  of  the  miserably  hard  fare,  and  insufficient 
preparation  of  it,  weighed  on  our  spirits  like  lead,  tended  to 
diminish  our  number  by  disease,  and  sent  hundreds  to  the 
hospital. 

The  Dixie  Greys,  for  instance,  consisted  mostly  of  young 
men  and  lads  who  were  as  ignorant  of  the  art  of  converting 
their  ration  of  raw  beef  and  salt  pork,  field  beans,  and  flour, 
into  digestible  food,  as  they  were  of  laundry  work ;  yet  they 
were  daily  served  with  rations,  which  they  might  eat  raw,  or 
treat  as  they  liked.  Of  course,  they  learnt  how  to  cook  in  time ; 
but,  meanwhile,  they  made  sorry  messes  of  it,  and  suffered 
accordingly.  Those  with  good  constitutions  survived  their 
apprenticeship,  and  youth,  open  air,  and  exercise,  enabled  them 
to  bear  it  a  long  time;  but  when,  with  improper  food,  the 
elements  chilled  and  heated  us  with  abrupt  change,  and  arbi- 
trary officialism  employed  its  wits  to  keep  us  perpetually  on 
the  move,  it  becomes  evident,  now,  why  only  the  hardiest  were 
enabled  to  bear  the  drudgery  and  vexation  imposed  upon 
them,  and  why  disease  slew  more  than  two-thirds  of  the  whole 
number  of  soldiers  who  perished  during  the  war. 

The  fault  of  the  American  generalship  was  that  it  devoted 
itself  solely  to  strategy  and  fighting,  and  providing  commis- 
sariat supplies;  but  seldom,  or  never,  to  the  kindly  science 
of  health-preservation.  The  officers  knew  how  to  keep  their 
horses  in  good  condition ;  but  I  do  not  remember  ever  to  have 
seen  an  officer  who  examined  the  state  of  our  messes,  or 
stooped  to  show  that,  though  he  was  our  military  superior,  he 
could  take  a  friendly  and  neighbourly  interest  in  our  well-being, 
and  that  his  rank  had  not  estranged  his  sympathies.  If,  at 
the  muster,  a  soldier  was  ill,  he  was  put  on  the  sick-list ;  but 
it  never  seems  to  have  struck  any  officer,  from  General  Lee 
down  to  the  Third-lieutenant  of  an  infantry  company,  that  it 
might  be  possible  to  reduce  the  number  of  invalids  by  paying 
attention  to  the  soldiers'  joys  and  comforts.   The  raw  provi- 


SOLDIERING  179 

sions  were  excellent  and  abundant,  and  they  only  needed  to 
be  properly  prepared  to  have  made  us  robust  and  strong. 

Just  as  the  regimental  physician  and  his  assistants  were 
requisite  for  the  cure  of  illness,  a  regimental  'chef,'  as  superior 
of  the  company's  cooks,  would  have  been  useful  for  the  pre- 
vention of  it,  in  fifty  per  cent  of  the  cases ;  but  the  age  was  not 
advanced  enough  to  recognise  this. 

Although  I  am  apt  to  assign  causes  for  things  in  my  old 
age,  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  I,  as  a  boy,  could  then  know 
much  about  such  matters.  I  was,  fortunately,  blessed  with  the 
power  of  endurance,  and  was  of  so  elastic  a  disposition  that  I 
could  act  my  part  without  cavil  or  criticism.  At  that  time,  I 
felt  that  I  had  no  other  business  in  the  world  than  to  eat, 
work,  and  use  my  eyes,  wits,  and  powers  as  a  soldier,  and  to  be 
as  happy  as  my  circumstances  would  allow;  and  I  do  not 
think  I  made  myself  obnoxious  to  any  living  soul.  Within  our 
mess  we  were  not  without  our  disagreements,  and  I  had  to 
bear  my  share  of  banter  from  my  elders;  but  none  can  say, 
'This  was  he  whom  we  had  sometime  in  derision,  and  a 
proverb  of  reproach.  We  accounted  his  life  madness,  and  his 
end  to  be  without  honour.' 

The  exigencies  of  war  necessitated  our  removal  by  train 
from  Columbus  to  Cave  City,  Kentucky,  where  we  arrived 
about  the  25th  of  November,  1861.  We  remained  in  this 
camp  until  about  the  middle  of  February,  1862.  The  force 
around  Bowling  Green  and  Cave  City  numbered  22,000.  Our 
brigade  was  attached  to  the  Division  of  General  Hardee, 
author  of  'Tactics.'  During  the  time  we  remained  there,  no 
fighting  occurred;  but  we  made  several  midnight  marches 
towards  Green  River,  and  posted  ourselves  in  positions  to 
surprise  the  enemy,  expected  to  come  from  Munfordville. 

During  the  winter  in  this  camp  I  won  the  approval  of  the 
mess  by  an  aptitude  for  lessening  the  inconveniences  under 
which  we  suffered  in  mid-winter,  and  my  success  in  foraging. 
Instead  of  a  lire  under  the  Sibley  tripod,  which,  besides  en- 
dangering our  feet  and  bedding,  smoked  us,  I  suggested  that 
we  should  sink  a  hearth  and  build  a  fire-place  with  a  flue  and 
regular  chimney  of  mud  outside;  and,  with  the  help  of  the 
veteran  Slate,  the  work  was  executed  so  well  that  our  tent 
was  always  warm  and  clear  of  smoke,  while  the  edges  of  the 


1 80  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

hearth  made  comfortable  seats  by  which  we  could  toast  our 
feet,  and  recline  back  luxuriously.  Tomasson,  our  bawling 
mess-mate,  was  not  worth  his  salt  at  any  work  except  legiti- 
mate soldiering.  He  seemed  to  consider  that,  by  dusting 
around  like  a  clown  at  a  pantomime,  and  giving  us  the  honour 
of  his  company,  he  did  enough  for  the  general  welfare.  Arm- 
strong and  Story  were  sergeants ;  and,  of  course,  their  Mighti- 
nesses were  exempt  from  doing  more  than  stooping  to  praise ! 
Dan,  being  in  the  leading-strings  of  Story,  was  not  permitted 
to  roam ;  therefore,  when  it  came  to  a  consideration  of  ways 
and  means  for  improving  our  diet,  it  devolved  upon  Malone, 
Slate,  and  myself  to  exert  ourselves  for  the  mess. 

The  long  halt  at  Cave  City  served  to  initiate  me  into  the 
mysteries  of  foraging,  which,  in  army-vocabulary,  meant  not 
only  to  steal  from  the  enemy,  but  to  exploit  Secessionist 
sympathisers,  and  obtain  for  love  and  money  some  trifles  to 
make  life  more  enjoyable.  Malone  and  Slate  were  very  suc- 
cessful and  clever  in  all  sorts  of  ruses.  I  was  envious  of  the 
praises  given  to  them,  and  resolved  to  outdo  them.  What 
rackings  of  the  brain  I  suffered,  as  I  mentally  revolved  the 
methods  to  adopt!  General  Sidney  Johnston  gave  not  so 
much  time  to  the  study  of  inflicting  defeat  on  the  Yankees,  as 
I  gave  to  win  glory  from  the  mess  by  my  exploits.  Half-a- 
dozen  times  in  December  it  had  been  my  turn  to  forage,  but, 
somehow,  my  return  was  not  greeted  with  any  rapturous  ap- 
plause. However,  by  Christmas  Eve  I  had  a  fair  knowledge  of 
the  country  and  the  temper  of  the  people  about,  and  my  mind 
was  stored  with  information  regarding  Secessionists,  Union- 
ists, and  lanes,  and  farms,  to  a  radius  of  five  miles  around  the 
camp.  Just  on  the  edge  of  my  circle,  there  lay  one  fat  farm 
towards  Green  River,  the  owner  of  which  was  a  Yank,  and  his 
neighbour  told  me  he  corresponded  with  the  enemy.  For  a 
foot-soldier,  the  distance  was  somewhat  far,  but  for  a  horse- 
man, it  was  nothing. 

The  day  before  Christmas,  through  the  assistance  of  a  man 
named  Tate,  I  had  the  promise  of  a  mule;  and  having  ob- 
tained the  countersign  from  Armstrong,  I  set  out,  as  soon  as 
it  was  dark,  to  levy  a  contribution  on  the  Unionist  farmer. 
It  was  about  ten  o'clock  by  the  time  I  reached  the  place.  Tying 
my  mule  in  the  angle  of  a  fence,  I  climbed  over,  and  explored 


SOLDIERING  181 

the  grounds.  In  crossing  a  field,  I  came  to  half-a-dozen  low 
mounds,  which  I  was  certain  contained  stores  of  potatoes,  or 
something  of  the  kind.  I  burrowed  into  the  side  of  one  of 
them  with  my  bayonet,  and  presently  I  smelled  apples.  These 
were  even  better  than  potatoes,  for  they  would  do  splendidly 
for  dumplings.  I  half-filled  a  sack  with  them.  After  burrow- 
ing into  two  or  three  others,  I  came  to  one  which  contained  the 
winter  store  of  potatoes,  and  I  soon  raked  out  enough  to  make 
a  load.  I  hurried  with  my  booty  to  my  mule,  and  secured  it 
on  the  mule. 

Then,  thinking  that  a  goose,  or  even  a  duck  or  a  fowl 
or  two,  would  make  our  Christmas  dinner  complete,  I  was 
tempted  to  make  a  quest  for  them,  anticipating,  as  I  crept 
towards  the  farm,  the  glory  I  should  receive  from  my  mess. 
I  reached  the  out-houses  with  every  faculty  strained,  and  I 
soon  had  the  pleasure  of  wringing  the  neck  of  a  goose,  a  duck, 
and  two  fowls. 

I  ought  to  have  had  the  discretion  to  retire  now,  but  the 
ambition  to  extinguish  Malone  and  Slate,  to  see  the  grin  of 
admiration  on  Armstrong's  face,  and  Newton  Story  open  his 
eyes,  and  Tomasson  compelled  to  pay  homage  to  worth,  left 
me  still  dissatisfied;  and  just  then  scenting  a  hog-pen,  I 
quietly  moved  towards  it.  By  the  light  of  a  feeble  moon  I 
worked  into  the  piggies'  home,  and  there,  cuddled  about  the 
hams  of  their  mother,  I  saw  the  pinky  forms  of  three  or  four 
plump  shoats.  Aye,  a  tender  shoat,  roasted  brown  and  crisp, 
would  be  the  crown  of  a  Christmas  dinner !  I  bounded  lightly 
as  a  lean  fox  into  the  sty,  snatched  a  young  porkling  up  by  the 
heels,  creating  a  terrifying  clamour  by  the  act.  We  were  all 
alarmed,  the  mother  hoarsely  grunted,  the  piggies  squealed  in 
a  frightful  chorus,  the  innocent  rent  the  midnight  air  with  his 
cries ;  but,  determined  not  to  lose  my  prize,  I  scrambled  over, 
ended  its  fears  and  struggles  by  one  fierce  slash,  dumped  the 
carcase  into  the  sack,  and  then  hastened  away.  Lights  were 
visible  in  the  farm-house,  doors  slammed,  and  by  a  broad 
beam  of  light  I  saw  a  man  in  the  doorway  with  a  gun  in  his 
hand.  A  second  later  a  shower  of  pellets  whistled  about  me, 
fortunately  without  harm,  which  sent  me  tearing  madly 
towards  my  mule.  In  a  few  minutes,  bathed  in  perspiration,  I 
was  astride  of  my  mule,  with  my  sack  of  dead  meat  in  front  of 


182  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

me,  and  potatoes  and  apples  thumping  the  sides  of  my  animal 
as  I  rode  away  towards  camp. 

Long  before  dawn,  I  made  my  triumphant  appearance  in 
front  of  my  tent,  and  was  rewarded  by  every  member  of  the 
mess  with  the  most  grateful  acknowledgements.  The  Christ- 
mas dinner  was  a  splendid  success,  and  over  twenty  invited 
guests  sat  down  to  it,  and  praises  were  on  every  lip;  but 
without  the  apple  dumplings  and  fritters  it  would  not  have 
been  complete  to  us  youngsters.  Secretly,  I  was  persuaded 
that  it  was  as  wrong  to  rob  a  poor  Unionist  as  a  Secessionist ; 
but  the  word  'foraging,'  which,  by  general  consent,  was  be- 
stowed on  such  deeds,  mollified  my  scruples.  Foragers  were 
sent  out  by  the  authorities  every  other  day,  and  even  author- 
ised to  seize  supplies  by  force ;  and,  according  to  the  military 
education  I  was  receiving,  I  did  not  appear  to  be  so  very 
wicked  as  my  conscience  was  inclined  to  make  me  out  to  be. 

When  I  set  out  foraging  in  the  daytime  I  was  amply 
furnished  with  funds,  and  sought  some  fraternal  'Secesh.' 
Towards  Green  River,  beyond  the  pickets,  an  old  Secessionist 
lady  and  I  became  great  friends,  trusting  one  another  without 
reservation.  I  would  give  her  ten  dollars  at  a  time  to  invest 
in  eggs,  butter,  and  fowls ;  and  she  would  trust  me  with  bowls, 
tins,  and  linen,  to  take  the  articles  to  camp.  The  old  lady  was 
wont  to  bless  my  'honest  face'  and  to  be  emotional,  as  I  told 
her  of  the  sufferings  of  my  fellow-' Dixies'  at  camp,  out  in 
the  snow  and  wintry  gale.  Her  large  faith  in  me,  and  her  good 
heart,  made  me  so  scrupulous  that  I  ran  many  risks  to  restore 
her  property  to  her.  Her  features  and  widowed  condition,  the 
sight  of  her  dairy  utensils,  clean,  and  smelling  of  laitage,  cream, 
and  cheese,  revived  pleasing  recollections  of  kine  and  their 
night-stalls,  and  led  on  to  Aunt  Mary  and  her  chimney-side ; 
from  that  moment,  I  was  her  most  devoted  admirer.  Through 
her  favouritism  for  me,  our  mess  was  often  able  to  lend  a 
pound  of  fresh  butter  and  a  dozen  eggs  to  the  officers'  mess. 

One  of  the  most  singular  characteristics  of  my  comrades 
was  their  readiness  to  take  offence  at  any  reflection  on  their 
veracity  or  personal  honour,  and  the  most  certain  provocation 
of  fury  was  to  give  anyone  the  lie.  They  could  stand  the  most 
vulgar  horse-play,  sarcastic  badinage,  and  cutting  jokes,  with 
good-humour ;  but.  if  that  unhappy  word  escaped  one  in  heat, 


SOLDIERING  183 

or  playful  malice,  it  acted  on  their  nerves  as  a  red  rag  is  said 
to  do  on  a  mad  bull.  The  glory  of  a  native  Southerner  consists 
in  being  reputed  brave,  truth-telling,  and  reverent  towards 
women.  On  such  subjects,  no  joking  was  permissible.  He  who 
ventured  to  cast  a  doubt  upon  either  was  liable  to  be  called 
upon  at  an  instant  to  withdraw  it ;  and,  if  an  angry  tone  made 
the  doubter  writhe,  and  indisposed  to  submit,  there  was  sure 
to  be  a  scene.  To  withdraw  a  word  at  an  imperious  command 
was  to  confess  oneself  inferior  in  courage  to  him  who  chal- 
lenged ;  and,  as  all  prided  themselves  on  being  of  equal  rank, 
and  similarly  endowed  with  the  best  qualities  of  manhood,  I 
never  met  one  who  was  morally  brave  enough  to  confess  his 
fault  and  apologise,  unless  he  was  compelled  by  overwhelming 
odds. 

During  that  winter  I  absorbed  so  many  of  these  'chivalrous' 
ideas  that  I  was  in  a  fair  way  of  becoming  as  great  a  '  fire- 
eater'  as  any  son  of  the  South.  Had  it  not  been  for  Newton 
Story  and  Armstrong,  who  knew  intuitively  when  to  interpose 
their  authority,  Tomasson's  rudeness,  which  flared  me  up 
many  a  time,  would,  I  am  sure,  have  been  followed  by  deplor- 
able consequences.  There  was  young  Dan  also ;  he  was  often 
in  a  wrangling  mood,  and  by  his  over-insistent  glorifications 
of  Southern  chivalry  brought  us  within  a  hair's  breadth 
of  triggers. 

The  tedium  of  camp-life  at  Cave  City  was  relieved  by  out- 
breaks of  this  kind,  for,  when  we  were  not  required  to  exhibit 
our  courage  against  the  common  foe,  the  spirit  of  mischief 
found  it  an  easy  task  to  influence  our  susceptiveness  when 
discussing  such  dear  and  near  matters  as  valour,  chastity, 
honour,  and  chivalry,  the  four  chiefest  virtues  of  the  South. 
It  is  not  an  easy  task  to  identify  myself  in  the  sunken  hearth 
of  the  tent  at  Cave  City,  talking  grandly  upon  such  themes ; 
but  several  scenes  recur  to  the  mind,  and  compel  me  to  the 
humiliating  confession  that  it  ivas  I. 

This  life  did  not  tend  to  awaken  spiritual  thoughts,  or  re- 
ligious observations.  When,  after  a  long  lapse  from  piety,  I 
strove  to  correct  my  erring  disposition  with  the  aid  of  prayer, 
how  very  faint-hearted  I  felt !  I  shrank  from  the  least  allusion 
to  any  goody-goodiness  manifested ;  I  became  shame-faced  if 
I  was  accused  of  being  pious ;  the  Bible  was  only  opened  by 


184  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

stealth ;  and  I  was  as  ready  to  deny  that  I  prayed,  as  Peter 
was  to  deny  Christ.  A  word  or  act  of  my  neighbour  became 
as  perilous  to  my  spiritual  feelings  as  a  gust  of  east  wind  is  to  a 
sufferer  from  Influenza.  Every  hour  brought  its  obstacle ;  but 
I  came,  by  degrees,  to  realise  that,  just  as  one  must  concentrate 
his  reasoning  faculties  for  the  solution  of  a  problem,  I  must,  if 
I  hoped  to  win  in  the  great  fight,  summon  every  good  thought 
to  my  assistance,  and  resolutely  banish  all  false  pride. 

But  these  were  not  my  worst  faults.  Tomasson's  mad 
humour  was  as  infectious  as  Dan's  dissertations  upon  Southern 
chivalry.  Indoors  he  was  jestive,  amusing,  vulgarly-enter- 
taining; outdoors,  he  made  us  all  join  him  in  uproarious 
laughter.  The  prank  of  a  mule,  the  sight  of  a  tall  hat,  the 
apparition  of  a  black  coat,  a  child,  a  woman,  a  duel  between 
two  cocks,  a  culprit  undergoing  penance,  it  mattered  not  what, 
tickled  his  humorous  nerve,  and  instigated  him  to  bawl,  and 
yell,  and  break  out  into  explosions  of  laughter ;  and  whether 
we  laughed  at  him,  or  at  that  which  had  caught  his  fancy,  in 
a  second  we  had  joined  in  the  yelling,  the  company  became 
smitten  with  it,  then  the  regiment,  and,  finally,  the  army, 
was  convulsed  in  idiotic  cachinnations.  I  really  blushed  at  the 
follies  that  people  like  Tomasson  often  led  us  into ;  but,  after 
all,  these  occasional  bursts  of  jolly  imbecility  were  only  a  way 
these  free-born  natures  took  to  express  their  animal  discontent 
and  mild  melancholy,  under  the  humiliating  circumstances  of 
that  crude  period.  It  was  really  pathetic,  after  a  mild  parox- 
ysm of  this  kind,  to  hear  them  sigh,  and  turn  to  each  other  and 
ask,  'Who  would  sell  a  farm  to  become  a  soldier?' 

From  the  day  when  personal  decoration  was  not  expected 
from  the  private  soldiers,  and  we  learned  that  endurance  was 
more  esteemed  than  comeliness,  a  steady  deterioration  in  our 
appearance  took  place.  We  allowed  weeks  to  pass  by  without 
a  bath ;  our  hair  was  mown,  not  cut,  making  a  comb  unneces- 
sary; a  bottle  of  water  sufficed  for  ablution,  a  pocket-hand- 
kerchief, or  the  sleeve  of  our  jacket,  served  for  a  towel ;  a  dab 
of  bacon-fat  was  all  that  was  needed  for  our  boots ;  our  dingy 
grey  uniforms  required  no  brushing.  Soldiering,  as  practised 
in  time  of  war,  was  most  demoralising  in  many  ways ;  for  the 
conflict  against  hunger,  fatigue,  cold,  and  exposure,  exhausted 
the  energies  and  strength  of  each  individual. 


SOLDIERING  185 

By  February,  1862,  we  had  learned  the  trade  of  war  toler- 
ably well,  and  were  rich  in  'wrinkles';  for  no  teacher  is  so 
thorough  as  necessity.  We  were  no  longer  harrowed  by  the 
scarcity  of  comforts,  and  the  climate,  with  its  fickleness  and 
inclemency,  we  proudly  disregarded.  Whether  it  rained, 
sleeted,  or  snowed,  or  the  keen  frost  bit  through  to  the  marrow, 
mattered  as  little  to  us  as  it  did  to  the  military  geniuses  who 
expected  raw  soldiers  to  thrive  on  this  Spartan  training.  To 
perfect  content  with  our  lot  we  could  not  hope  to  attain,  so 
long  as  we  retained  each  our  spiritual  individualities,  and 
remembered  what  we  had  enjoyed  in  times  gone-by;  but, 
after  a  course  of  due  seasoning,  the  worst  ills  only  provoked 
a  temporary  ill-humour;  while  our  susceptibility  to  fun  so 
sweetened  our  life  that  there  was  scarcely  anything  in  our 
lives  but  conduced  to  a  laugh  and  prompted  a  jest. 

The  fall  of  Forts  Henry  and  Donelson,  on  the  6th  and  16th 
February,  1862,  required  our  instant  evacuation  of  Cave  City 
and  Bowling  Green,  to  Nashville,  lest  we  should  be  cut  off  by 
the  Union  advance  up  the  Cumberland  and  Tennessee  Rivers, 
behind  us.  We  were  therefore  obliged  to  march  through^  the 
snow  to  the  rear  of  Bowling  Green,  where  we  were  packed  into 
the  cars  and  speedily  taken  to  Nashville,  arriving  there  on  the 
20th  February.  Thence,  after  a  couple  of  days,  we  were 
marched  towards  the  South,  via  Murfreesboro,  Tullahoma, 
Athens,  and  Decatur,  a  march  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles. 
At  the  latter  place  we  took  the  cars  again,  and  were  trans- 
ported to  Corinth,  where  we  arrived  on  the  25th  March.  Here 
it  leaked  out  that  a  surprise  was  intended  against  our  army, 
by  the  conqueror  of  Donelson,  who  had  landed  from  the  Ten- 
nessee River  near  Shiloh,  some  twenty-four  miles  away  from 
us.  Brigades  and  regiments  were  daily  arriving,  belonging  to 
the  divisions  of  Generals  Clark,  Cheatham,  Bragg,  Withers, 
and  Breckenridge,  which  were  finally  formed  into  three  army 
corps,  under  the  inspection  commands  of  Polk,  Braxton,  Bragg, 
and  Hardee,  and  were  now  united  under  the  commands  of 
Generals  Albert  Sidney  Johnston,  and  P.  G.  T.  Beauregard. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
SHILOH 

ON  April  2,  1862,  we  received  orders  to  prepare  three 
days'  cooked  rations.  Through  some  misunderstand- 
ing, we  did  not  set  out  until  the  4th;  and,  on  the 
morning  of  that  day,  the  6th  Arkansas  Regiment  of  Hind- 
man's  brigade,  Hardee's  corps,  marched  from  Corinth  to  take 
part  in  one  of  the  bloodiest  battles  of  the  West.  We  left  our 
knapsacks  and  tents  behind  us.  After  two  days  of  marching, 
and  two  nights  of  bivouacking  and  living  on  cold  rations,  our 
spirits  were  not  so  buoyant  at  dawn  of  Sunday,  the  6th  April, 
as  they  ought  to  have  been  for  the  serious  task  before  us. 
Many  wished,  like  myself,  that  we  had  not  been  required  to 
undergo  this  discomfort  before  being  precipitated  into  the 
midst  of  a  great  battle. 

Military  science,  with  all  due  respect  to  our  generals,  was 
not  at  that  time  what  it  is  now.  Our  military  leaders  were  well 
acquainted  with  the  science  of  war,  and,  in  the  gross  fashion 
prevailing,  paid  proper  attention  to  the  commissariat.  Every 
soldier  had  his  lawful  allowance  of  raw  provender  dealt  out  to 
him ;  but,  as  to  its  uses  and  effects,  no  one  seemed  to  be  con- 
cerned. Future  commanding  generals  will  doubtless  remedy 
this,  and  when  they  meditate  staking  their  cause  and  reputa- 
tion on  a  battle,  they  will,  like  the  woodman  about  to  do  a 
good  day's  work  at  cutting  timber,  see  that  their  instruments 
are  in  the  best  possible  state  for  their  purpose. 

Generals  Johnston  and  Beauregard  proposed  to  hurl  into 
the  Tennessee  River  an  army  of  nearly  50,000  rested  and  well- 
fed  troops,  by  means  of  40,000  soldiers,  who,  for  two  days,  had 
subsisted  on  sodden  biscuit  and  raw  bacon,  who  had  been 
exposed  for  two  nights  to  rain  and  dew,  and  had  marched 
twenty-three  miles !  Considering  that  at  least  a  fourth  of  our 
force  were  lads  under  twenty,  and  that  such  a  strenuous  task 
was  before  them,  it  suggests  itself  to  me  that  the  omission  to 
take  the  physical  powers  of  those  youths  into  their  calculation 


SHILOH  187 

had  as  much  to  do  with  the  failure  of  the  project  as  the  ob- 
stinate courage  of  General  Grant's  troops.  According  to  au- 
thority, the  actual  number  of  the  forces  about  to  be  opposed 
to  each  other  was  39,630  Confederates  against  49,232  Fed- 
erals. Our  generals  expected  the  arrival  of  General  Van  Dorn, 
with  20,000  troops,  who  failed  to  make  their  appearance ;  but, 
close  at  hand  to  Grant,  was  General  Buell's  force  of  20,000, 
who,  opportunely  for  Grant,  arrived  just  at  the  close  of  the 
day's  battle. 

At  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  we  rose  from  our  damp 
bivouac,  and,  after  a  hasty  refreshment,  were  formed  into 
line.  We  stood  in  rank  for  half  an  hour  or  so,  while  the  military 
dispositions  were  being  completed  along  the  three-mile  front. 
Our  brigade  formed  the  centre;  Cleburne's  and  Gladden's 
brigades  were  on  our  respective  flanks. 

Day  broke  with  every  promise  of  a  fine  day.  Next  to  me, 
on  my  right,  was  a  boy  of  seventeen,  Henry  Parker.  I  remem- 
ber it  because,  while  we  stood-at-ease,  he  drew  my  attention 
to  some  violets  at  his  feet,  and  said,  'It  would  be  a  good  idea 
to  put  a  few  into  my  cap.  Perhaps  the  Yanks  won't  shoot  me 
if  they  see  me  wearing  such  flowers,  for  they  are  a  sign  of 
peace.'  'Capital,'  said  I,  'I  will  do  the  same.'  We  plucked  a 
bunch,  and  arranged  the  violets  in  our  caps.  The  men  in  the 
ranks  laughed  at  our  proceedings,  and  had  not  the  enemy 
been  so  near,  their  merry  mood  might  have  been  communi- 
cated to  the  army. 

We  loaded  our  muskets,  and  arranged  our  cartridge- 
pouches  ready  for  use.  Our  weapons  were  the  obsolete  flint- 
locks,1 and  the  ammunition  was  rolled  in  cartridge-paper, 
which  contained  powder,  a  round  ball,  and  three  buckshot. 
When  we  loaded  we  had  to  tear  the  paper  with  our  teeth, 
empty  a  little  powder  into  the  pan,  lock  it,  empty  the  rest  of 
the  powder  into  the  barrel,  press  paper  and  ball  into  the  muz- 
zle, and  ram  home.  Then  the  Orderly-sergeant  called  the  roll, 
and  we  knew  that  the  Dixie  Greys  were  present  to  a  man. 
Soon  after,  there  was  a  commotion,  and  we  dressed  up  smartly. 
A  young  Aide  galloped  along  our  front,  gave  some  instructions 

1  Beauregard  (Military  Operations,  vol.  i,  p.  300),  writing  of  the  battle-field  of  Shiloh, 
savs,  "  One  cheering  feature,  however,  was  the  strewing  of  old  flint-locks  and  double- 
barrelled  shot-guns,  exchanged  for  the  Enfield  and  Minie  rifles  abandoned  by  the 
enemy."  —  D.  S. 


188  HENRY   M.  STANLEY 

to  the  Brigadier  Hindman,  who  confided  the  same  to  his 
Colonels,  and  presently  we  swayed  forward  in  line,  with  shoul- 
dered arms.  Newton  Story,  big,  broad,  and  straight,  bore  our 
company-banner  of  gay  silk,  at  which  the  ladies  of  our  neigh- 
bourhood had  laboured. 

As  we  tramped  solemnly  and  silently  through  the  thin 
forest,  and  over  its  grass,  still  in  its  withered  and  wintry  hue,  I 
noticed  that  the  sun  was  not  far  from  appearing,  that  our 
regiment  was  keeping  its  formation  admirably,  that  the  woods 
would  have  been  a  grand  place  for  a  picnic ;  and  I  thought  it 
strange  that  a  Sunday  should  have  been  chosen  to  disturb  the 
holy  calm  of  those  woods. 

Before  we  had  gone  five  hundred  paces,  our  serenity  was 
disturbed  by  some  desultory  firing  in  front.  It  was  then  a 
quarter-past  five.  'They  are  at  it  already,'  we  whispered  to 
each  other.  'Stand  by,  gentlemen,'  —  for  we  were  all  gentle- 
men volunteers  at  this  time,  —  said  our  Captain,  L.  G.  Smith. 
Our  steps  became  unconsciously  brisker,  and  alertness  was 
noticeable  in  everybody.  The  firing  continued  at  intervals, 
deliberate  and  scattered,  as  at  target-practice.  We  drew 
nearer  to  the  firing,  and  soon  a  sharper  rattling  of  musketry 
was  heard.  'That  is  the  enemy  waking  up,'  we  said.  Within 
a  few  minutes,  there  was  another  explosive  burst  of  musketry, 
the  air  was  pierced  by  many  missiles,  which  hummed  and 
pinged  sharply  by  our  ears,  pattered  through  the  tree-tops, 
and  brought  twigs  and  leaves  down  on  us.  '  Those  are  bullets,1 
Henry  whispered  with  awe. 

At  two  hundred  yards  further,  a  dreadful  roar  of  musketry 
broke  out  from  a  regiment  adjoining  ours.  It  was  followed  by 
another  further  off,  and  the  sound  had  scarcely  died  away 
when  regiment  after  regiment  blazed  away  and  made  a  con- 
tinuous roll  of  sound.  'We  are  in  for  it  now,'  said  Henry; 
but  as  yet  we  had  seen  nothing,  though  our  ears  were  tingling 
under  the  animated  volleys. 

'Forward,  gentlemen,  make  ready!'  urged  Captain  Smith. 
In  response,  we  surged  forward,  for  the  first  time  marring  the 
alignment.  We  trampled  recklessly  over  the  grass  and  young 
sprouts.  Beams  of  sunlight  stole  athwart  our  course.  The 
sun  was  up  above  the  horizon.  Just  then  we  came  to  a  bit 
of  packland,  and  overtook  our  skirmishers,  who  had  been 


SHILOH  189 

engaged  in  exploring  our  front.  We  passed  beyond  them. 
Nothing  now  stood  between  us  and  the  enemy. 

'There  they  are!'  was  no  sooner  uttered,  than  we  cracked 
into  them  with  levelled  muskets.  '  Aim  low,  men  !'  commanded 
Captain  Smith.  I  tried  hard  to  see  some  living  thing  to  shoot 
at,  for  it  appeared  absurd  to  be  blazing  away  at  shadows. 
But,  still  advancing,  firing  as  we  moved,  I,  at  last,  saw  a  row  of 
little  globes  of  pearly  smoke  streaked  with  crimson,  breaking- 
out,  with  spurtive  quickness,  from  a  long  line  of  bluey  figures 
in  front;  and,  simultaneously,  there  broke  upon  our  ears  an 
appalling  crash  of  sound,  the  series  of  fusillades  following  one 
another  with  startling  suddenness,  which  suggested  to  my 
somewhat  moidered  sense  a  mountain  upheaved,  with  huge 
rocks  tumbling  and  thundering  down  a  slope,  and  the  echoes 
rumbling  and  receding  through  space.  Again  and  again, 
these  loud  and  quick  explosions  were  repeated,  seemingly  with 
increased  violence,  until  they  rose  to  the  highest  pitch  of  fury, 
and  in  unbroken  continuity.  All  the  world  seemed  involved 
in  one  tremendous  ruin ! 

This  was  how  the  conflict  was  ushered  in  —  as  it  affected 
me.  I  looked  around  to  see  the  effect  on  others,  or  whether  I 
was  singular  in  my  emotions,  and  was  glad  to  notice  that  each 
was  possessed  with  his  own  thoughts.  All  were  pale,  solemn, 
and  absorbed ;  but,  beyond  that,  it  was  impossible  for  me  to 
discover  what  they  thought  of  it;  but,  by  transmission  of 
sympathy,  I  felt  that  they  would  gladly  prefer  to  be  elsewhere, 
though  the  law  of  the  inevitable  kept  them  in  line  to  meet 
their  destiny.  It  might  be  mentioned,  however,  that  at  no 
time  were  we  more  instinctively  inclined  to  obey  the  voice  of 
command.  We  had  no  individuality  at  this  moment,  but  all 
motions  and  thoughts  were  surrendered  to  the  unseen  influ- 
ence which  directed  our  movements.  Probably  few  bothered 
their  minds  with  self-questionings  as  to  the  issue  to  them- 
selves. That  properly  belongs  to  other  moments,  to  the  night, 
to  the  interval  between  waking  and  sleeping,  to  the  first  mo- 
ments of  the  dawn  —  not  when  every  nerve  is  tense,  and  the 
spirit  is  at  the  highest  pitch  of  action. 

Though  one's  senses  were  preternaturally  acute,  and  en- 
gaged with  their  impressions,  we  plied  our  arms,  loaded,  and 
fired,  with  such  nervous  haste  as  though  it  depended  on  each 


190  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

of  us  how  soon  this  fiendish  uproar  would  be  hushed.  My 
nerves  tingled,  my  pulses  beat  double-quick,  my  heart  throbbed 
loudly,  and  almost  painfully ;  but,  amid  all  the  excitement,  my 
thoughts,  swift  as  the  flash  of  lightning,  took  all  sound,  and 
sight,  and  self,  into  their  purview.  I  listened  to  the  battle 
raging  far  away  on  the  flanks,  to  the  thunder  in  front,  to  the 
various  sounds  made  by  the  leaden  storm.  I  was  angry  with 
my  rear  rank,  because  he  made  my  eyes  smart  with  the 
powder  of  his  musket ;  and  I  felt  like  cuffing  him  for  deafening 
my  ears !  I  knew  how  Captain  Smith  and  Lieutenant  Mason 
looked,  how  bravely  the  Dixie  Greys'  banner  ruffled  over 
Newton  Story's  head,  and  that  all  hands  were  behaving  as 
though  they  knew  how  long  all  this  would  last.  Back  to  my- 
self my  thoughts  came,  and,  with  the  whirring  bullet,  they 
fled  to  the  blue-bloused  ranks  afront.  They  dwelt  on  their 
movements,  and  read  their  temper,  as  I  should  read  time  by 
a  clock.  Through  the  lurid  haze  the  contours  of  their  pink 
faces  could  not  be  seen,  but  their  gappy,  hesitating,  inco- 
herent, and  sensitive  line  revealed  their  mood  clearly. 

We  continued  advancing,  step  by  step,  loading  and  firing 
as  we  went.  To  every  forward  step,  they  took  a  backward 
move,  loading  and  firing  as  they  slowly  withdrew.  Twenty 
thousand  muskets  were  being  fired  at  this  stage,  but,  though 
accuracy  of  aim  was  impossible,  owing  to  our  labouring  hearts, 
and  the  jarring  and  excitement,  many  bullets  found  their 
destined  billets  on  both  sides. 

After  a  steady  exchange  of  musketry,  which  lasted  some 
time,  we  heard  the  order:  'Fix  Bayonets!  On  the  double- 
quick!'  in  tones  that  thrilled  us.  There  was  a  simultaneous 
bound  forward,  each  soul  doing  his  best  for  the  emergency. 
The  Federals  appeared  inclined  to  await  us;  but,  at  this  junc- 
ture, our  men  raised  a  yell,  thousands  responded  to  it,  and 
burst  out  into  the  wildest  yelling  it  has  ever  been  my  lot  to 
hear.  It  drove  all  sanity  and  order  from  among  us.  It  served 
the  double  purpose  of  relieving  pent-up  feelings,  and  trans- 
mitting encouragement  along  the  attacking  line.  I  rejoiced 
in  the  shouting  like  the  rest.  It  reminded  me  that  there  were 
about  four  hundred  companies  like  the  Dixie  Greys,  who 
shared  our  feelings.  Most  of  us,  engrossed  with  the  musket- 
work,  had  forgotten  the  fact;  but  the  wave  after  wave  of 


SHILOH  191 

human  voices,  louder  than  all  other  battle-sounds  together, 
penetrated  to  every  sense,  and  stimulated  our  energies  to  the 

utmost. 

'They  fly!'  was  echoed  from  lip  to  lip.  It  accelerated  our 
pace,  and  filled  us  with  a  noble  rage.  Then  I  knew  what  the 
Berserker  passion  was !  It  deluged  us  with  rapture,  and  trans- 
figured each  Southerner  into  an  exulting  victor.  At  such  a 
moment,  nothing  could  have  halted  us. 

Those  savage  yells,  and  the  sight  of  thousands  of  racing 
figures  coming  towards  them,  discomfited  the  blue-coats; 
and  when  we  arrived  upon  the  place  where  they  had  stood, 
they  had  vanished.  Then  we  caught  sight  of  their  beautiful 
array  of  tents,  before  which  they  had  made  their  stand,  after 
being  roused  from  their  Sunday-morning  sleep,  and  huddled 
into  line,  at  hearing  their  pickets  challenge  our  skirmishers. 
The  half-dressed  dead  and  wounded  showed  what  a  surprise 
our  attack  had  been.  We  drew  up  in  the  enemy's  camp, 
panting  and  breathing  hard.  Some  precious  minutes  were 
thus  lost  in  recovering  our  breaths,  indulging  our  curiosity, 
and  re-forming  our  line.  Signs  of  a  hasty  rouse  to  the  battle 
were  abundant.  Military  equipments,  uniform-coats,  half- 
packed  knapsacks,  bedding,  of  a  new  and  superior  quality, 
littered  the  company  streets. 

Meantime,  a  series  of  other  camps  lay  behind  the  first  array 
of  tents.  The  resistance  we  had  met,  though  comparatively 
brief,  enabled  the  brigades  in  rear  of  the  advance  camp  to 
recover  from  the  shock  of  the  surprise ;  but  our  delay  had  not 
been  long  enough  to  give  them  time  to  form  in  proper  order  of 
battle.  There  were  wide  gaps  between  their  divisions,  into 
which  the  quick-flowing  tide  of  elated  Southerners  entered, 
and  compelled  them  to  fall  back  lest  they  should  be  surrounded. 
Prentiss's  brigade,  despite  their  most  desperate  efforts,  were 
thus  hemmed  in  on  all  sides,  and  were  made  prisoners. 

I  had  a  momentary  impression  that,  with  the  capture  of 
the  first  camp,  the  battle  was  well-nigh  over ;  but,  in  fact,  it 
was  only  a  brief  prologue  of  the  long  and  exhaustive  series  of 
struggles  which  took  place  that  day. 

Continuing  our  advance,  we  came  in  view  of  the  tops  of 
another  mass  of  white  tents,  and,  almost  at  the  same  time, 
were  met  by  a  furious  storm  of  bullets,  poured  on  us  from  a 


i92  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

long  line  of  blue-coats,  whose  attitude  of  assurance  proved  to  us 
that  we  should  have  tough  work  here.  But  we  were  so  much 
heartened  by  our  first  success  that  it  would  have  required  a 
good  deal  to  have  halted  our  advance  for  long.  Their  oppor- 
tunity for  making  a  full  impression  on  us  came  with  terrific 
suddenness.  The  world  seemed  bursting  into  fragments.  Can- 
non and  musket,  shell  and  bullet,  lent  their  several  intensities 
to  the  distracting  uproar.  If  I  had  not  a  fraction  of  an  ear, 
and  an  eye  inclined  towards  my  Captain  and  Company,  I  had 
been  spell-bound  by  the  energies  now  opposed  to  us.  I  likened 
the  cannon,  with  their  deep  bass,  to  the  roaring  of  a  great 
herd  of  lions;  the  ripping,  cracking  musketry,  to  the  inces- 
sant yapping  of  terriers ;  the  wfindy  whisk  of  shells,  and  zip- 
ping of  minie  bullets,  to  the  swoop  of  eagles,  and  the  buzz  of 
angry  wasps.  All  the  opposing  armies  of  Grey  and  Blue 
fiercely  blazed  at  each  other. 

After  being  exposed  for  a  few  seconds  to  this  fearful  down- 
pour, we  heard  the  order  to  'Lie  down,  men,  and  continue 
your  firing!'  Before  me  was  a  prostrate  tree,  about  fifteen 
inches  in  diameter,  with  a  narrow  strip  of  light  between  it  and 
the  ground.  Behind  this  shelter  a  dozen  of  us  flung  ourselves. 
The  security  it  appeared  to  offer  restored  me  to  my  individu- 
ality. We  could  fight,  and  think,  and  observe,  better  than 
out  in  the  open.  But  it  was  a  terrible  period !  How  the  can- 
non bellowed,  and  their  shells  plunged  and  bounded,  and  flew 
with  screeching  hisses  over  us !  Their  sharp  rending  explosions 
and  hurtling  fragments  made  us  shrink  and  cower,  despite 
our  utmost  efforts  to  be  cool  and  collected.  I  marvelled,  as  I 
heard  the  unintermitting  patter,  snip,  thud,  and  hum  of  the 
bullets,  how  anyone  could  live  under  this  raining  death.  I 
could  hear  the  balls  beating  a  merciless  tattoo  on  the  outer 
surface  of  the  log,  pinging  vivaciously  as  they  flew  off  at  a 
tangent  from  it,  and  thudding  into  something  or  other,  at  the 
rate  of  a  hundred  a  second.  One,  here  and  there,  found  its  way 
under  the  log,  and  buried  itself  in  a  comrade's  body.  One 
man  raised  his  chest,  as  if  to  yawn,  and  jostled  me.  I  turned 
to  him,  and  saw  that  a  bullet  had  gored  his  whole  face,  and 
penetrated  into  his  chest.  Another  ball  struck  a  man  a  deadly 
rap  on  the  head,  and  he  turned  on  his  back  and  showed  his 
ghastly  white  face  to  the  sky. 


SHILOH  193 

'It  is  getting  too  warm,  boys!'  cried  a  soldier,  and  he  ut- 
tered a  vehement  curse  upon  keeping  soldiers  hugging  the 
ground  until  every  ounce  of  courage  was  chilled.  He  lifted 
his  head  a  little  too  high,  and  a  bullet  skimmed  over  the  top 
of  the  log  and  hit  him  fairly  in  the  centre  of  his  forehead,  and 
he  fell  heavily  on  his  face.  But  his  thought  had  been  instan- 
taneously general ;  and  the  officers,  with  one  voice,  ordered  the 
charge;  and  cries  of  'Forward,  forward!'  raised  us,  as  with  a 
spring,  to  our  feet,  and  changed  the  complexion  of  our  feelings. 
The  pulse  of  action  beat  feverishly  once  more ;  and,  though 
overhead  was  crowded  with  peril,  we  were  unable  to  give  it 
so  much  attention  as  when  we  lay  stretched  on  the  ground. 

Just  as  we  bent  our  bodies  for  the  onset,  a  boy's  voice  cried 
out,  'Oh,  stop,  please  stop  a  bit,  I  have  been  hurt,  and  can't 
move!'  I  turned  to  look,  and  saw  Henry  Parker,  standing 
on  one  leg,  and  dolefully  regarding  his  smashed  foot.  In 
another  second,  we  were  striding  impetuously  towards  the 
enemy,  vigorously  plying  our  muskets,  stopping  only  to  prime 
the  pan  and  ram  the  load  down,  when,  with  a  spring  or  two, 
we  would  fetch  up  with  the  front,  aim,  and  fire. 

Our  progress  was  not  so  continuously  rapid  as  we  desired, 
for  the  blues  were  obdurate;  but  at  this  moment  we  were 
gladdened  at  the  sight  of  a  battery  galloping  to  our  assistance. 
It  was  time  for  the  nerve-shaking  cannon  to  speak.  After  two 
rounds  of  shell  and  canister,  we  felt  the  pressure  on  us 
slightly  relaxed ;  but  we  were  still  somewhat  sluggish  in  dis- 
position, though  the  officers'  voices  rang  out  imperiously. 
Newton  Story  at  this  juncture  strode  forward  rapidly  with  the 
Dixies'  banner,  until  he  was  quite  sixty  yards  ahead  of  the 
foremost.  Finding  himself  alone,  he  halted;  and  turning  to 
us  smilingly,  said,  'Why  don't  you  come  on,  boys?'  You  see 
there  is  no  danger!'  His  smile  and  words  acted  on  us  like 
magic.  We  raised  the  yell,  and  sprang  lightly  and  hopefully 
towards  him.  'Let's  give  them  hell,  boys!'  said  one.  'Plug 
them  plum-centre,  every  time!' 

It  was  all  very  encouraging,  for  the  yelling  and  shouting 
were  taken  up  by  thousands.  "  Forward,  forward ;  don't  give 
them  breathing  time!'  was  cried.  We  instinctively  obeyed, 
and  soon  came  in  clear  view  of  the  blue-coats,  who  were 
scornfully  unconcerned  at  first ;  but,  seeing  the  leaping  tide  of 


194  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

men  coming  on  at  a  tremendous  pace,  their  front  dissolved, 
and  they  fled  in  double-quick  retreat.  Again  we  felt  the 
'glorious  joy  of  heroes.'  It  carried  us  on  exultantly,  rejoicing 
in  the  spirit  which  recognises  nothing  but  the  prey.  We  were 
no  longer  an  army  of  soldiers,  but  so  many  school-boys  racing, 
in  which  length  of  legs,  wind,  and  condition  tell. 

We  gained  the  second  line  of  camps,  continued  the  rush 
through  them,  and  clean  beyond.  It  was  now  about  ten 
o'clock.  My  physical  powers  were  quite  exhausted,  and,  to 
add  to  my  discomfiture,  something  struck  me  on  my  belt- 
clasp,  and  tumbled  me  headlong  to  the  ground. 

I  could  not  have  been  many  minutes  prostrated  before  I 
recovered  from  the  shock  of  the  blow  and  fall,  to  find  my  clasp 
deeply  dented  and  cracked.  My  company  was  not  in  sight. 
I  was  grateful  for  the  rest,  and  crawled  feebly  to  a  tree,  and 
plunging  my  hand  into  my  haversack,  ate  ravenously.  Within 
half  an  hour,  feeling  renovated,  I  struck  north  in  the  direction 
which  my  regiment  had  taken,  over  a  ground  strewn  with 
bodies  and  the  debris  of  war. 

The  desperate  character  of  this  day's  battle  was  now 
brought  home  to  my  mind  in  all  its  awful  reality.  While  in  the 
tumultuous  advance,  and  occupied  with  a  myriad  of  exciting 
incidents,  it  was  only  at  brief  intervals  that  I  was  conscious 
of  wounds  being  given  and  received ;  but  now,  in  the  trail  of 
pursuers  and  pursued,  the  ghastly  relics  appalled  every  sense. 
I  felt  curious  as  to  who  the  fallen  Greys  were,  and  moved  to 
one  stretched  straight  out.  It  was  the  body  of  a  stout  English 
Sergeant  of  a  neighbouring  company,  the  members  of  which 
hailed  principally  from  the  Washita  Valley.  At  the  crossing 
of  the  Arkansas  River  this  plump,  ruddy-faced  man  had  been 
conspicuous  for  his  complexion,  jovial  features,  and  good- 
humour,  and  had  been  nicknamed  'John  Bull.'  He  was  now 
lifeless,  and  lay  with  his  eyes  wide  open,  regardless  of  the 
scorching  sun,  and  the  tempestuous  cannonade  which  sounded 
through  the  forest,  and  the  musketry  that  crackled  incessantly 
along  the  front. 

Close  by  him  was  a  young  Lieutenant,  who,  judging  by  the 
new  gloss  on  his  uniform,  must  have  been  some  father's 
darling.  A  clean  bullet-hole  through  the  centre  of  his  fore- 
head had  instantly  ended  his  career.    A  little  further  were 


SHILOH  195 

some  twenty  bodies,  lying  in  various  postures,  each  by  its 
own  pool  of  viscous  blood,  which  emitted  a  peculiar  scent, 
which  was  new  to  me,  but  which  I  have  since  learned  is  in- 
separable from  a  battle-field.  Beyond  these,  a  still  larger 
group  lav,  body  overlying  body,  knees  crooked,  arms  erect,  or 
wide-stretched  and  rigid,  according  as  the  last  spasm  over- 
took them.  The  company  opposed  to  them  must  have  shot 
straight. 

Other  details  of  that  ghastly  trail  formed  a  mass  of  horrors 
that  will  always  be  remembered  at  the  mention  of  Shiloh.  I 
can  never  forget  the  impression  those  wide-open  dead  eyes 
made  on  me.  Each  seemed  to  be  starting  out  of  its  socket, 
with  a  look  similar  to  the  fixed  wondering  gaze  of  an  infant,  as 
though  the  dying  had  viewed  something  appalling  at  the  last 
moment.  'Can  it  be,'  I  asked  myself,  'that  at  the  last  glance 
they  saw  their  own  retreating  souls,  and  wondered  why  their 
caskets  were  left  behind,  like  offal?'  My  surprise  was  that  the 
form  we  made  so  much  of,  and  that  nothing  was  too  good  for, 
should  now  be  mutilated,  hacked,  and  outraged ;  and  that  the 
life,  hitherto  guarded  as  a  sacred  thing,  and  protected  by  the 
Constitution,  Law,  Ministers  of  Justice,  Police,  should,  of  a 
sudden,  —  at  least,  before  I  can  realise  it,  —  be  given  up  to 
death ! 

An  object  once  seen,  if  it  has  affected  my  imagination,  re- 
mains indelibly  fixed  in  my  memory ;  and,  among  many  other 
scenes  with  which  it  is  now  crowded,  I  cannot  forget  that 
half-mile  square  of  woodland,  lighted  brightly  by  the  sun, 
and  littered  by  the  forms  of  about  a  thousand  dead  and 
wounded  men,  and  by  horses,  and  military  equipments.  It 
formed  a  picture  that  may  always  be  reproduced  with  an 
almost  absolute  fidelity.  For  it  was  the  first  Field  of  Glory  I 
had  seen  in  my  May  of  life,  and  the  first  time  that  Glory 
sickened  me  with  its  repulsive  aspect,  and  made  me  suspect 
it  was  all  a  glittering  lie.  In  my  imagination,  I  saw  more  than 
it  was  my  fate  to  see  with  my  eyes,  for,  under  a  flag  of  truce, 
I  saw  the  bearers  pick  up  the  dead  from  the  field,  and  lay  them 
in  long  rows  beside  a  wide  trench ;  I  saw  them  laid,  one  by 
one,  close  together  at  the  bottom,  —  thankless  victims  of  a 
perished  cause,  and  all  their  individual  hopes,  pride,  honour, 
names,  buried  under  oblivious  earth. 


196  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

My  thoughts  reverted  to  the  time  when  these  festering 
bodies  were  idolized  objects  of  their  mothers'  passionate  love, 
their  fathers  standing  by,  half-fearing  to  touch  the  fragile 
little  things,  and  the  wings  of  civil  law  out-spread  to  protect 
parents  and  children  in  their  family  loves,  their  coming  and 
going  followed  with  pride  and  praise,  and  the  blessing  of  the 
Almighty  over-shadowing  all.  Then,  as  they  were  nearing 
manhood,  through  some  strange  warp  of  Society,  men  in 
authority  summoned  them  from  school  and  shop,  field  and 
farm,  to  meet  in  the  woods  on  a  Sunday  morning  for  mutual 
butchery  with  the  deadliest  instruments  ever  invented,  Civil 
Law,  Religion,  and  Morality  complaisantly  standing  aside, 
while  90,000  young  men,  who  had  been  preached  and  moral- 
ized to,  for  years,  were  let  loose  to  engage  in  the  carnival  of 
slaughter. 

Only  yesterday,  they  professed  to  shudder  at  the  word 
'Murder.'  To-day,  by  a  strange  twist  in  human  nature,  they 
lusted  to  kill,  and  were  hounded  on  in  the  work  of  destruction 
by  their  pastors,  elders,  mothers,  and  sisters.  Oh,  for  once,  I 
was  beginning  to  know  the  real  truth !  Man  was  born  for 
slaughter !  All  the  pains  taken  to  soothe  his  savage  heart  were 
unavailing!  Holy  words  and  heavenly  hopes  had  no  lasting 
effect  on  his  bestial  nature,  for,  when  once  provoked,  how 
swiftly  he  flung  aside  the  sweet  hope  of  Heaven,  and  the 
dread  of  Hell,  with  which  he  amused  himself  in  time  of  ease ! 

As  I  moved,  horror-stricken,  through  the  fearful  shambles, 
where  the  dead  lay  as  thick  as  the  sleepers  in  a  London  park 
on  a  Bank  Holiday,  I  was  unable  to  resist  the  belief  that  my 
education  had  been  in  abstract  things,  which  had  no  relation 
to  our  animal  existence.  For,  if  human  life  is  so  disparaged, 
what  has  it  to  do  with  such  high  subjects  as  God,  Heaven,  and 
Immortality?  And  to  think  how  devotional  men  and  women 
pretended  to  be,  on  a  Sunday !  Oh,  cunning,  cruel  man !  He 
knew  that  the  sum  of  all  real  knowledge  and  effort  was  to 
know  how  to  kill  and  mangle  his  brothers,  as  we  were  doing 
to-day !  Reflecting  on  my  own  emotions,  I  wondered  if  other 
youths  would  feel  that  they  had  been  deluded  like  myself  with 
man's  fine  polemics  and  names  of  things,  which  vanished 
with  the  reality. 

A  multitude  of  angry  thoughts  surged  through  me,  which 


SHILOH  197 

I  cannot  describe  in  detail,  but  they  amounted  to  this,  that  a 
cruel  deception  had  been  practised  on  my  blank  ignorance, 
that  my  atom  of  imagination  and  feeling  had  been  darkened, 
and  that  man  was  a  portentous  creature  from  which  I  recoiled 
with  terror  and  pity.  He  was  certainly  terrible  and  hard,  but 
he  was  no  more  to  me  now  than  a  two-legged  beast ;  he  was 
cunning  beyond  finding  out,  but  his  morality  was  only  a  mask 
for  his  wolfish  heart !  Thus,  scoffing  and  railing  at  my  infatua- 
tion for  moral  excellence  as  practised  by  humanity,  I  sought 
to  join  my  company  and  regiment. 

The  battle-field  maintained  the  same  character  of  undu- 
lated woodland,  being,  in  general,  low  ridges  separated  by 
broad  depressions,  which  sunk  occasionally  into  ravines  of 
respectable  depth.  At  various  places,  wide  clearings  had  been 
made ;  and  I  came  across  a  damp  bottom  or  two  covered  with 
shrubs.  For  a  defensive  force  there  were  several  positions 
that  were  admirable  as  rallying-points,  and  it  is  perhaps 
owing  to  these,  and  the  undoubted  courage  exhibited  by  the 
Federal  troops,  that  the  battle  was  so  protracted.  Though 
our  attack  had  been  a  surprise,  it  was  certain  that  they  fought 
as  though  they  were  resolved  to  deny  it ;  and,  as  the  ground  to 
be  won  from  the  enemy  was  nearly  five  miles  in  depth,  and 
every  half  mile  or  so  they  stood  and  obstinately  contested  it, 
all  the  honours  of  the  day  were  not  to  be  with  us. 

I  overtook  my  regiment  about  one  o'clock,  and  found  that 
it  was  engaged  in  one  of  these  occasional  spurts  of  fury.  The 
enemy  resolutely  maintained  their  ground,  and  our  side  was 
preparing  for  another  assault.  The  firing  was  alternately 
brisk  and  slack.  We  lay  down,  and  availed  ourselves  of  trees, 
logs,  and  hollows,  and  annoyed  their  upstanding  ranks ;  bat- 
tery pounded  battery,  and,  meanwhile,  we  hugged  our  resting- 
places  closely.  Of  a  sudden,  we  rose  and  raced  towards  the 
position,  and  took  it  by  sheer  weight  and  impetuosity,  as  we 
had  done  before.  About  three  o'clock,  the  battle  grew  very 
hot.  The  enemy  appeared  to  be  more  concentrated,  and  im- 
movably sullen.  Both  sides  fired  better  as  they  grew  more 
accustomed  to  the  din ;  but,  with  assistance  from  the  reserves, 
we  were  continually  pressing  them  towards  the  river  Tennes- 
see, without  ever  retreating  an  inch. 

About  this  time,  the  enemy  were  assisted  by  the  gun-boats, 


198  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

which  hurled  their  enormous  projectiles  far  beyond  us;  but, 
though  they  made  great  havoc  among  the  trees,  and  created 
terror,  they  did  comparatively  little  damage  to  those  in  close 
touch  with  the  enemy. 

The  screaming  of  the  big  shells,  when  they  first  began  to 
sail  over  our  heads,  had  the  effect  of  reducing  our  fire ;  for  they 
were  as  fascinating  as  they  were  distracting.  But  we  became 
used  to  them,  and  our  attention  was  being  claimed  more  in 
front.  Our  officers  were  more  urgent ;  and,  when  we  saw  the 
growing  dyke  of  white  cloud  that  signalled  the  bullet-storm,  we 
could  not  be  indifferent  to  the  more  immediate  danger.  Dead 
bodies,  wounded  men  writhing  in  agony,  and  assuming  every 
distressful  attitude,  were  frequent  sights ;  but  what  made  us 
heart-sick  was  to  see,  now  and  then,  the  well-groomed  charger 
of  an  officer,  with  fine  saddle,  and  scarlet  and  yellow-edged 
cloth,  and  brass- tipped  holsters,  or  a  stray  cavalry  or  artillery 
horse,  galloping  between  the  lines,  snorting  with  terror,  while 
his  entrails,  soiled  with  dust,  trailed  behind  him. 

Our  officers  had  continued  to  show  the  same  alertness  and 
vigour  throughout  the  day ;  but,  as  it  drew  near  four  o'clock, 
though  they  strove  to  encourage  and  urge  us  on,  they  began 
to  abate  somewhat  in  their  energy ;  and  it  was  evident  that 
the  pluckiest  of  the  men  lacked  the  spontaneity  and  spring- 
ing ardour  which  had  distinguished  them  earlier  in  the  day. 
Several  of  our  company  lagged  wearily  behind,  and  the  re- 
mainder showed,  by  their  drawn  faces,  the  effects  of  their 
efforts.  Yet,  after  a  short  rest,  they  were  able  to  make  splendid 
spurts.  As  for  myself,  I  had  only  one  wish,  and  that  was  for 
repose.  The  long-continued  excitement,  the  successive  taut- 
ening and  relaxing  of  the  nerves,  the  quenchless  thirst,  made 
more  intense  by  the  fumes  of  sulphurous  powder,  and  the 
caking  grime  on  the  lips,  caused  by  tearing  the  paper  car- 
tridges, and  a  ravening  hunger,  all  combined,  had  reduced  me 
to  a  walking  automaton,  and  I  earnestly  wished  that  night 
would  come,  and  stop  all  further  effort. 

Finally,  about  five  o'clock,  we  assaulted  and  captured  a 
large  camp ;  after  driving  the  enemy  well  away  from  it,  the 
front  line  was  as  thin  as  that  of  a  skirmishing  body,  and  we 
were  ordered  to  retire  to  the  tents.  There  we  hungrily  sought 
after  provisions,  and  I  was  lucky  in  finding  a  supply  of  biscuits 


SHILOH  199 

and  a  canteen  of  excellent  molasses,  which  gave  great  comfort 
to  myself  and  friends.  The  plunder  in  the  camp  was  abundant. 
There  were  bedding,  clothing,  and  accoutrements  without 
stint;  but  people  were  so  exhausted  they  could  do  no  more 
than  idly  turn  the  things  over.  Night  soon  fell,  and  only  a 
few  stray  shots  could  now  be  heard,  to  remind  us  of  the  thrill- 
ing and  horrid  din  of  the  day,  excepting  the  huge  bombs  from 
the  gun-boats,  which,  as  we  were  not  far  from  the  blue-coats, 
discomforted  only  those  in  the  rear.  By  eight  o'clock,  I  was 
repeating  my  experiences  in  the  region  of  dreams,  indifferent 
to  columbiads_and  mortars,  and  the  torrential  rain  which,  at 
midnight,  increased  the  miseries  of  the  wounded  and  tentless. 

An  hour  before  dawn,  I  awoke  from  a  refreshing  sleep ;  and, 
after  a  hearty  replenishment  of  my  vitals  with  biscuit  and 
molasses,  I  conceived  myself  to  be  fresher  than  on  Sunday 
morning.  While  awaiting  day-break,  I  gathered  from  other 
early  risers  their  ideas  in  regard  to  the  events  of  yesterday. 
They  were  under  the  impression  that  we  had  gained  a  great 
victory,  though  we  had  not,  as  we  had  anticipated,  reached 
the  Tennessee  River.  Van  Dorn,  with  his  expected  reinforce- 
ments for  us,  was  not  likely  to  make  his  appearance  for  many 
days  yet;  and,  if  General  Buell,  with  his  20,000  troops,  had 
joined  the  enemy  during  the  night,  we  had  a  bad  day's  work 
before  us.  We  were  short  of  provisions  and  ammunition, 
General  Sidney  Johnston,  our  chief  Commander,  had  been 
killed ;  but  Beauregard  was  safe  and  unhurt,  and,  if  Buell  was 
absent,  we  would  win  the  day. 

At  daylight,  I  fell  in  with  my  Company,  but  there  were  only 
about  fifty  of  the  Dixies  present.  i\lmost  immediately  after, 
symptoms  of  the  coming  battle  were  manifest.  Regiments 
were  hurried  into  line,  but,  even  to  my  inexperienced  eyes,  the 
troops  were  in  ill-condition  for  repeating  the  efforts  of  Sunday. 
However,  in  brief  time,  in  consequence  of  our  pickets  being 
driven  in  on  us,  we  were  moved  forward  in  skirmishing  order. 
With  my  musket  on  the  trail  I  found  myself  in  active  motion, 
more  active  than  otherwise  I  would  have  been,  perhaps, 
because  Captain  Smith  had  said,  'Now,  Mr.  Stanley,  if  you 
please,  step  briskly  forward  !'  This  singling-out  of  me  wounded 
my  amour-propre,  and  sent  me  forward  like  a  rocket.  In  a 
short  time,  we  met  our  opponents  in  the  same  formation  as 


200  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

ourselves,  and  advancing  most  resolutely.  We  threw  ourselves 
behind  such  trees  as  were  near  us,  fired,  loaded,  and  darted 
forward  to  another  shelter.  Presently,  I  found  myself  in  an 
open,  grassy  space,  with  no  convenient  tree  or  stump  near; 
but,  seeing  a  shallow  hollow  some  twenty  paces  ahead,  I  made 
a  dash  for  it,  and  plied  my  musket  with  haste.  I  became  so 
absorbed  with  some  blue  figures  in  front  of  me,  that  I  did  not 
pay  sufficient  heed  to  my  companion  greys;  the  open  space 
was  too  dangerous,  perhaps,  for  their  advance ;  for,  had  they 
emerged,  I  should  have  known  they  were  pressing  forward. 
Seeing  my  blues  in  about  the  same  proportion,  I  assumed  that 
the  greys  were  keeping  their  position,  and  never  once  thought 
of  retreat.  However,  as,  despite  our  firing,  the  blues  were 
coming  uncomfortably  near,  I  rose  from  my  hollow ;  but,  to 
my  speechless  amazement,  I  found  myself  a  solitary  grey,  in  a 
line  of  blue  skirmishers !  My  companions  had  retreated  !  The 
next  I  heard  was,  'Down  with  that  gun,  Secesh,  or  I'll  drill  a 
hole  through  you!   Drop  it,  quick!' 

Half  a  dozen  of  the  enemy  were  covering  me  at  the  same 
instant,  and  I  dropped  my  weapon,  incontinently.  Two  men 
sprang  at  my  collar,  and  marched  me,  unresisting,  into  the 
ranks  of  the  terrible  Yankees.  /  was  a  prisoner  I 

When  the  senses  have  been  concentrated  upon  a  specific 
object  with  the  intensity  which  a  battle  compels,  and  are 
forcibly  and  suddenly  veered  about  by  another  will,  the 
immediate  result  is,  at  first,  stupefying.  Before  my  con- 
sciousness had  returned  to  me,  I  was  being  propelled  vigor- 
ously from  behind,  and  I  was  in  view  of  a  long,  swaying  line  of 
soldiers,  who  were  marching  to  meet  us  with  all  the'  precision 
of  drill,  and  with  such  a  close  front  that  a  rabbit  would  have 
found  it  difficult  to  break  through.  This  sight  restored  me  to 
all  my  faculties,  and  I  remembered  I  was  a  Confederate,  in 
misfortune,  and  that  it  behoved  me  to  have  some  regard  for 
my  Uniform.  I  heard  bursts  of  vituperation  from  several 
hoarse  throats,  which  straightened  my  back  and  made  me 
defiant. 

'Where  are  you  taking  that  fellow  to?    Drive  a  bayonet 

into  the !  Let  him  drop  where  he  is ! '  they  cried  by 

the  dozen,  with  a  German  accent.  They  grew  more  excited  as 
we  drew  nearer,  and  more  men  joined  in  the  opprobrious 


SHILOH  201 

chorus.  Then  a  few  dashed  from  the  ranks,  with  levelled  bayo- 
nets, to  execute  what  appeared  to  be  the  general  wish. 

I  looked  into  their  faces,  deformed  with  fear  and  fury,  and 
I  felt  intolerable  loathing  for  the  wild-eyed  brutes!  Their 
eyes,  projected  and  distended,  appeared  like  spots  of  pale  blue 
ink,  in  faces  of  dough !  Reason  had  fled  altogether  from  their 
features,  and,  to  appeal  for  mercy  to  such  blind,  ferocious 
animalism  would  have  been  the  height  of  absurdity,  but  I  was 
absolutely  indifferent  as  to  what  they  might  do  with  me 
now.  Could  I  have  multiplied  myself  into  a  thousand,  such 
unintellectual-looking  louts  might  have  been  brushed  out  of 
existence  with  ease  —  despite  their  numbers.  They  were  ap- 
parently new  troops,  from  such  back-lands  as  were  favoured 
by  German  immigrants ;  and,  though  of  sturdy  build,  another 
such  mass  of  savagery  and  stupidity  could  not  have  been  found 
within  the  four  corners  of  North  America.  How  I  wished  I 
could  return  to  the  Confederates,  and  tell  them  what  kind  of 
people  were  opposing  them ! 

Before  their  bayonets  reached  me,  my  two  guards,  who 
were  ruddy-faced  Ohioans,  flung  themselves  before  me,  and, 
presenting  their  rifles,  cried, '  Here  !  stop  that,  you  fellows !  He 
is  our  prisoner!'  A  couple  of  officers  were  almost  as  quick  as 
they,  and  flourished  their  swords ;  and,  amid  an  expenditure  of 
profanity,  drove  them  quickly  back  into  their  ranks,  cursing 
and  blackguarding  me  in  a  manner  truly  American.  A  com- 
pany opened  its  lines  as  we  passed  to  the  rear.  Once  through, 
I  was  comparatively  safe  from  the  Union  troops,  but  not  from 
the  Confederate  missiles,  which  were  dropping  about,  and 
striking  men,  right  and  left. 

Quickening  our  pace,  we  soon  were  beyond  danger  from 
my  friends ;  after  which,  I  looked  about  with  interest  at  the 
forces  that  were  marching  to  retrieve  their  shame  of  yesterday. 
The  troops  we  saw  belonged  to  Buell,  who  had  crossed  the 
Tennessee,  and  was  now  joined  by  Grant.  They  presented  a 
brave,  even  imposing,  sight ;  and,  in  their  new  uniforms,  with 
glossy  knapsacks,  rubbers  undimmed,  brasses  resplendent, 
they  approached  nearer  to  my  idea  of  soldiers  than  our  dingy 
grey  troops.  Much  of  this  fine  show  and  seeming  steadiness 
was  due  to  their  newer  equipments,  and,  as  yet,  unshaken 
nerves;  but,  though  their  movements  were  firm,  they  were 


202  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

languid,  and  lacked  the  elan,  the  bold  confidence,  of  the 
Southerners.  Given  twenty-four  hours'  rest,  and  the  enjoy- 
ment of  cooked  rations,  I  felt  that  the  Confederates  would 
have  crumpled  up  the  handsome  Unionists  within  a  brief 
time. 

Though  my  eyes  had  abundant  matter  of  interest  within 
their  range,  my  mind  continually  harked  back  to  the  miser- 
able hollow  which  had  disgraced  me,  and  I  kept  wondering 
how  it  was  that  my  fellow-skirmishers  had  so  quickly  disap- 
peared. I  was  inclined  to  blame  Captain  Smith  for  urging  me 
on,  when,  within  a  few  minutes  after,  he  must  have  withdrawn 
his  men.  But  it  was  useless, to  trouble  my  mind  with  con- 
jectures. I  was  a  prisoner!  Shameful  position!  What  would 
become  of  my  knapsack,  and  my  little  treasures,  —  letters,  and 
souvenirs  of  my  father  ?  They  were  lost  beyond  recovery ! 

On  the  way,  my  guards  and  I  had  a  discussion  about  our 
respective  causes,  and,  though  I  could  not  admit  it,  there  was 
much  reason  in  what  they  said,  and  I  marvelled  that  they 
could  put  their  case  so  well.  For,  until  now,  I  was  under  the 
impression  that  they  were  robbers  who  only  sought  to  deso- 
late the  South,  and  steal  the  slaves ;  but,  according  to  them, 
had  we  not  been  so  impatient  and  flown  to  arms,  the  influence 
of  Abe  Lincoln  and  his  fellow-abolitionists  would  not  have 
affected  the  Southerners  pecuniarily ;  for  it  might  have  been 
possible  for  Congress  to  compensate  slave-owners,  that  is,  by 
buying  up  all  slaves,  and  afterwards  setting  them  free.  But 
when  the  Southerners,  who  were  not  averse  to  selling  their 
slaves  in  the  open  market,  refused  to  consider  anything  relat- 
ing to  them,  and  began  to  seize  upon  government  property, 
forts,  arsenals,  and  war-ships,  and  to  set  about  establishing  a 
separate  system  in  the  country,  then  the  North  resolved  that 
this  should  not  be,  and  that  was  the  true  reason  of  the  war. 
The  Northern  people  cared  nothing  for  the  'niggers,'  —  the 
slavery  question  could  have  been  settled  in  another  and 
quieter  way,  —  but  they  cared  all  their  lives  were  worth  for 
their  country. 

At  the  river-side  there  was  tremendous  activity.  There 
were  seven  or  eight  steamers  tied  to  the  bank,  discharging 
troops  and  stores.  The  commissariat  stores  and  forage  lay  in 
mountainous  heaps.   In  one  place  on  the  slope  was  a  corral  of 


SHILOH  203 

prisoners,  about  four  hundred  and  fifty  in  number,  who  had 
been  captured  the  day  before.  I  was  delivered  to  the  charge  of 
the  officer  in  command  of  the  guards,  and,  in  a  few  minutes, 
was  left  to  my  own  reflections  amid  the  unfortunates. 

The  loss  of  the  Union  troops  in  the  two  days'  fight  was 
1754  killed,  8408  wounded,  and  2885  captured;  total,  13,047. 
That  of  the  Confederates  was  1728  killed,  8012  wounded, 
and  959  missing;  total,  10,699. 

The  loss  of  Hindman's  Brigade  was  109  killed,  546  wounded, 
38  missing;  total,  693,  — about  a  fifth  of  the  number  that 
went,  on  the  Sunday  morning,  into  action. 

Referring  to  these  totals,  1754+1728=3482,  killed,  Gen- 
eral Grant,  however,  says,  in  his  article  on  Shiloh :  '  This  esti- 
mate of  the  Confederate  loss  must  be  incorrect.  We  buried, 
by  actual  count,  more  of  the  enemy's  dead  in  front  of  the  divi- 
sions of  McClernand  and  Sherman  alone  than  here  reported ; 
and  4000  was  the  estimate  of  the  burial  parties  for  the  whole 
field.'1 

Nine  days  after  the  battle  of  Shiloh,  a  conscript  law  was 
passed  by  the  Confederate  Congress  which  annulled  all  pre- 
vious contracts  made  with  volunteers,  and  all  men  between 
eighteen  and  thirty-five  were  to  be  soldiers  during  the  con- 
tinuance of  the  war.    General  T.  C.  Hindman,  our  brigade 

1  Stanley,  now  having  become  a  prisoner,  is  not  able  to  conclude  his  personal  account 
of  this  historical  contest.  It  may  be  of  interest  to  the  reader  if  I  briefly  summarise  the 
final  result. 

On  Sunday,  April  6,  1862,  was  fought  the  greatest  battle  of  the  war.  As  General  D.  C. 
Buell  says  in  a  magazine  article:  'The  battle  of  Shiloh  was  the  most  famous,  and,  to 
both  sides,  the  most  interesting  of  the  war.'  The  Confederate  army  advanced  upon 
the  Federal  army,  penetrated  its  disconnected  lines,  assaulted  its  camps  in  front  and 
flank,  and  drove  it  from  position  to  position,  towards  the  Tennessee  River. 

At  the  close  of  the  day,  when  the  retreating  army  was  driven  to  take  refuge  in  the 
midst  of  its  magazines,  a  re-enforcing  army  was  marching  to  its  assistance,  and  an 
advance  division,  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river,  checked  the  attacking  force. 

At  dawn,  the  next  morning,  Monday,  April  7,  General  Buell  heading  the  re-enforcing 
army,  and  with  a  fresh  division  of  the  defeated  force,  drove  the  Confederates  from  the 
field  and  recaptured  the  camps,  after  ten  hours'  desperate  fighting. 

Whereupon  General  Beauregard,  seeing  the  hopelessness  of  prolonging  the  contest, 
withdrew  his  army,  in  perfect  order,  and  unmolested,  to  Corinth.  There  was  no  pursuit; 
and  this  was  afterwards  much  commented  on.  But  both  armies  appear  to  have  been 
utterly  spent,  the  Federal  troops  being  as  much  outdone  as  the  Confederates.  General 
Grant  stated  that,  though  desirous  of  pursuing  the  retreating  army,  he  '  had  not  the 
heart  to  order  it  to  men  who  had  fought  desperately  for  two  days,  lying  in  the  mud  and 
rain,  whenever  not  fighting.'  —  D.  S. 


204  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

commander,  was  appointed,  fifty  days  after  Shiloh,  command- 
ing general  of  Arkansas,  and  enforced  the  conscript  law  re- 
morselessly. He  collected  an  army  of  20,000  under  this  law, 
and  such  as  deserted  were  shot  by  scores,  until  he  made 
himself  odious  to  all  by  his  ruthlessness,  violence,  and  tyr- 
anny. 

While  at  Atlanta,  Georgia,  in  March,  1891,  I  received  the 
following  letter  (which  is  copied  verbatim)  from  '  old  Slate,' 
as  we  used  to  call  him,  owing  to  a  certain  quaint,  old-man- 
nish humour  which  characterised  him. 

Blue  Ridge,  Ga. 
March  28th,  1891. 

Dear  Sir,  —  I  am  anxious  to  know  if  you  enlisted  in 
Company  E.,  Dixie  Greys,  6th  Arkansas  Regiment,  Col. 
Lyon  commanding,  Lieut. -Col.  Hawthorn,  Capt.  Smith  com- 
manding Dixie  Greys,  Co.  E.  Col.  Lyons  was  accidently 
killed  on  the  Tennessee  River,  by  riding  off  Bluff  and  horse 
falling  on  him. 

On  the  6th  April,  1862,  the  Confederates  attacked  the 
Yankees  at  Shiloh.  Early  in  the  morning  I  was  wounded, 
and  I  never  saw  our  boyish-looking  Stanley  no  more,  but 
understood  he  was  captured,  and  sent  North.  I  have  read 
everything  in  newspapers,  and  your  Histories,  believing  you 
are  the  same  Great  Boy.  We  all  loved  you,  and  regretted 
the  results  of  that  eventful  day.  This  is  enough  for  you  to 
say,  in  reply,  that  you  are  the  identical  Boyish  Soldier. 
You  have  wrote  many  letters  for  me.  Please  answer  by 
return  mail. 

Very  truly  yours, 

James  M.  Slate. 

Address : 
J.  M.  Slate,  Blue  Ridge. 


CHAPTER  IX 
PRISONER  OF  WAR 

ON  the  8th  of  April  we  were  embarked  on  a  steamer, 
and  despatched  to  St.  Louis.  We  were  a  sad  lot  of 
men.  I  feel  convinced  that  most  of  them  felt,  with 
myself,  that  we  were  ill-starred  wretches,  and  special  objects 
of  an  unkind  Fate.  We  made  no  advances  to  acquaintanceship, 
for  what  was  the  value  of  any  beggarly  individual  amongst 
us?  All  he  possessed  in  the  world  was  a  thin,  dingy  suit  of 
grey,  and  every  man's  thoughts  were  of  his  own  misfortune, 
which  was  as  much  as  he  could  bear,  without  being  bothered 
with  that  of  another. 

On  the  third  day,  I  think,  we  reached  St.  Louis,  and  were 
marched  through  the  streets,  in  column  of  fours,  to  a  Ladies' 
College,  or  some  such  building.  On  the  way,  we  were  not  a 
little  consoled  to  find  that  we  had  sympathisers,  especially 
among  the  ladies,  in  the  city.  They  crowded  the  sidewalks, 
and  smiled  kindly,  and  sometimes  cheered,  and  waved  dainty 
white  handkerchiefs  at  us.  How  beautiful  and  clean  they 
appeared,  as  compared  with  our  filthy  selves !  While  at  the 
college,  they  besieged  the  building,  and  threw  fruit  and  cakes 
at  the  struggling  crowds  in  the  windows,  and  in  many  ways 
assisted  to  lighten  the  gloom  on  our  spirits. 

Four  days  later,  we  were  embarked  on  railroad  cars,  and 
taken  across  the  State  of  Illinois  to  Camp  Douglas,  on  the 
outskirts  of  Chicago.  Our  prison-pen  was  a  square  and  spa- 
cious enclosure,  like  a  bleak  cattle-yard,  walled  high  with 
planking,  on  the  top  of  which,  at  every  sixty  yards  or  so,  were 
sentry-boxes.  About  fifty  feet  from  its  base,  and  running 
parallel  with  it,  was  a  line  of  lime-wash.  That  was  the  'dead- 
line,' and  any  prisoner  who  crossed  it  was  liable  to  be  shot. 

One  end  of  the  enclosure  contained  the  offices  of  the  author- 
ities. Colonel  James  A.  Milligan,  one  of  the  Irish  Brigade 
(killed  at  Winchester,  July  24th,  1864)  commanded  the  camp. 
Mr.  Shipman,  a  citizen  of  Chicago,  acted  as  chief  commissary. 


206  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

At  the  other  end,  at  quite  three  hundred  yards  distance,  were 
the  buildings  allotted  to  the  prisoners,  huge,  barn-like  struc- 
tures of  planking,  each  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  by 
forty,  and  capable  of  accommodating  between  two  hundred 
and  three  hundred  men.  There  may  have  been  about  twenty 
of  these  structures,  about  thirty  feet  apart,  and  standing  in 
two  rows ;  and  I  estimated  that  there  were  enough  prisoners 
within  it  to  have  formed  a  strong  brigade  —  say  about  three 
thousand  men  —  when  we  arrived.  I  remember,  by  the  regi- 
mental badges  which  they  wore  on  their  caps  and  hats,  that 
they  belonged  to  the  three  arms  of  the  service,  and  that  al- 
most every  Southern  State  was  represented.  They  were  clad 
in  home-made  butternut  and  grey. 

To  whatever  it  was  due,  the  appearance  of  the  prisoners 
startled  me.  The  Southerners'  uniforms  were  never  pretty, 
but  when  rotten,  and  ragged,  and  swarming  with  vermin, 
they  heightened  the  disreputability  of  their  wearers;  and,  if 
anything  was  needed  to  increase  our  dejection  after  taking 
sweeping  glances  at  the  arid  mud-soil  of  the  great  yard,  the 
butternut  and  grey  clothes,  the  sight  of  ash-coloured  faces,  and 
of  the  sickly  and  emaciated  condition  of  our  unhappy  friends, 
were  well  calculated  to  do  so. 

We  were  led  to  one  of  the  great  wooden  barns,  where  we 
found  a  six-foot  wide  platform  on  each  side,  raised  about 
four  feet  above  the  flooring.  These  platforms  formed  con- 
tinuous bunks  for  about  sixty  men,  allowing  thirty  inches  to 
each  man.  On  the  floor,  two  more  rows  of  men  could  be  ac- 
commodated. Several  bales  of  hay  were  brought,  out  of  which 
we  helped  ourselves  for  bedding.  Blankets  were  also  distrib- 
uted, one  to  each  man.  I,  fortunately,  found  a  berth  on  the 
right-hand  platform,  not  far  from  the  doorway,  and  my  mate 
was  a  young  sprig  of  Mississippi  nobility  named  W.  H.  Wilkes 
(a  nephew  of  Admiral  C.  Wilkes,  U.  S.  Navy,  the  navigator, 
and  captor  of  Mason  and  Slidell,  Confederate  Commission- 
ers). 

Mr.  Shipman  soon  after  visited  us,  and.  after  inspection, 
suggested  that  we  should  form  ourselves  into  companies,  and 
elect  officers  for  drawing  rations  and  superintending  of  quar- 
ters. I  was  elected  captain  of  the  right-hand  platform  and 
berths  below  it.  Blank  books  were  served  out  to  each  captain, 


PRISONER  OF  WAR  207 

and  I  took  the  names  of  my  company,  which  numbered  over 
one  hundred.  By  showing  my  book  at  the  commissariat,  and 
bringing  a  detail  with  me,  rations  of  soft  bread,  fresh  beef, 
coffee,  tea,  potatoes,  and  salt,  were  handed  to  me  by  the 
gross,  which  I  had  afterwards  to  distribute  to  the  chiefs  of 
messes. 

On  the  next  day  (April  16th),  after  the  morning  duties  had 
been  performed,  the  rations  divided,  the  cooks  had  departed 
contented,  and  the  quarters  swept,  I  proceeded  to  my  nest 
and  reclined  alongside  of  my  friend  Wilkes,  in  a  posture  that 
gave  me  a  command  of  one-half  of  the  building.  I  made  some 
remarks  to  him  upon  the  card-playing  groups  opposite,  when, 
suddenly,  I  felt  a  gentle  stroke  on  the  back  of  my  neck,  and, 
in  an  instant,  I  was  unconscious.  The  next  moment  I  had  a 
vivid  view  of  the  village  of  Tremeirchion,  and  the  grassy 
slopes  of  the  hills  of  Hiraddog,  and  I  seemed  to  be  hover- 
ing over  the  rook  woods  of  Brynbella.  I  glided  to  the  bed- 
chamber of  my  Aunt  Mary.  My  aunt  was  in  bed,  and  seemed 
sick  unto  death.  I  took  a  position  by  the  side  of  the  bed,  and 
saw  myself,  with  head  bent  down,  listening  to  her  parting 
words,  which  sounded  regretful,  as  though  conscience  smote 
her  for  not  having  been  so  kind  as  she  might  have  been,  or  had 
wished  to  be.  I  heard  the  boy  say,  'I  believe  you,  aunt.  It  is 
neither  your  fault,  nor  mine.  You  were  good  and  kind  to  me, 
and  I  knew  you  wished  to  be  kinder ;  but  things  were  so  or- 
dered that  you  had  to  be  what  you  were.  I  also  dearly  wished 
to  love  you,  but  I  was  afraid  to  speak  of  it,  lest  you  would 
check  me,  or  say  something  that  would  offend  me.  I  feel  our 
parting  was  in  this  spirit.  There  is  no  need  of  regrets.  You 
have  done  your  duty  to  me,  and  you  had  children  of  your 
own,  who  required  all  your  care.  What  has  happened  to  me 
since,  was  decreed  should  happen.   Farewell.' 

I  put  forth  my  hand  and  felt  the  clasp  of  the  long,  thin  hands 
of  the  sore-sick  woman,  I  heard  a  murmur  of  farewell,  and 
immediately  I  woke. 

It  appeared  to  me  that  I  had  but  closed  my  eyes.  I  was  still 
in  the  same  reclining  attitude,  the  groups  opposite  were  still 
engaged  in  their  card  games,  Wilkes  was  in  the  same  position. 
Nothing  had  changed. 

I  asked,  'What  has  happened?' 


208  HENRY   M.  STANLEY 

'What  could  happen?'  said  he.  !\Vhat  makes  you  ask?  It 
is  but  a  moment  ago  you  were  speaking  to  me.' 

'Oh,  I  thought  I  had  been  asleep  a  long  time.' 

On  the  next  day,  the  17th  April,  1862,  my  Aunt  Mary  died 
at  Fynnon  Beuno ! 

I  believe  that  the  soul  of  every  human  being  has  its  attend- 
ant spirit,  —  a  nimble  and  delicate  essence,  whose  method  of 
action  is  by  a  subtle  suggestion  which  it  contrives  to  insinuate 
into  the  mind,  whether  asleep  or  awake.  We  are  too  gross  to 
be  capable  of  understanding  the  signification  of  the  dream,  the 
vision,  or  the  sudden  presage,  or  of  divining  the  source  of  the 
premonition,  or  its  purport.  We  admit  that  we  are  liable  to 
receive  a  fleeting  picture  of  an  act,  or  a  figure,  at  any  moment ; 
but,  except  being  struck  by  certain  strange  coincidences 
which  happen  to  most  of  us,  we  seldom  make  an  effort  to 
unravel  the  mystery.  The  swift,  darting  messenger  stamps 
an  image  on  the  mind,  and  displays  a  vision  to  the  sleeper ;  and 
if,  as  sometimes  follows,  among  tricks  and  twists  of  an  errant 
mind,  or  reflex  acts  of  the  memory,  it  happens  to  be  a  true 
representation  of  what  is  to  happen,  or  has  happened,  thou- 
sands of  miles  away,  we  are  left  to  grope  hopelessly  as  to  the 
manner  and  meaning  of  it,  for  there  is  nothing  tangible  to  lav 
hold  of. 

There  are  many  things  relating  to  my  existence  which  are 
inexplicable  to  me,  and  probably  it  is  best  so ;  this  death-bed 
scene,  projected  on  my  mind's  screen,  across  four  thousand 
five  hundred  miles  of  space,  is  one  of  these  mysteries. 

After  Wilkes  and  I  had  thoroughly  acquainted  ourselves 
with  all  the  evil  and  the  good  to  be  found  at  Camp  Douglas, 
neither  of  us  saw  any  reason  at  first  why  we  could  not  wait 
with  patience  for  the  exchange  of  prisoners.  But,  as  time 
passed,  we  found  it  to  be  a  dreary  task  to  endure  the  un- 
changing variety  of  misery  surrounding  us.  I  was  often 
tempted  with  an  impulse  to  challenge  a  malignant  sentry's 
bullet,  by  crossing  that  ghastly  'dead-line,'  which  I  saw  every 
day  I  came  out.  A  more  unlovely  sight  than  a  sick  Secession- 
ist, in  a  bilious  butternut,  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  conceive. 
Though  he  had  been  naked  and  soiled  by  his  own  filth,  there 
would  still  have  remained  some  elements  of  attractiveness 
in  him;   but   that  dirty,  ill-made,  nut-coloured    homespun 


PRISONER  OF   WAR  209 

aggravated  every  sense,  and  made  the  poor,  sickly  wretch 
unutterably  ugly. 

In  our  treatment,  I  think  there  was  a  purpose.  If  so,  it  may 
have  been  from  a  belief  that  we  should  the  sooner  recover  our 
senses  by  experiencing  as  much  misery,  pain,  privation,  and 
sorrow  as  could  be  contained  within  a  prison ;  and,  therefore, 
the  authorities  rigidly  excluded  every  medical,  pious,  musical, 
or  literary  charity  that  might  have  alleviated  our  sufferings. 
It  was  a  barbarous  age,  it  is  true ;  but  there  were  sufficient 
Christian  families  in  Chicago,  who,  I  am  convinced,  only 
needed  a  suggestion,  to  have  formed  societies  for  the  relief  of 
the  prisoners.  And  what  an  opportunity  there  was  for  such, 
to  strengthen  piety,  to  promote  cheerfulness,  soothe  political 
ferocity,  and  subdue  the  brutal  and  vicious  passions  which 
possessed  those  thousands  of  unhappy  youths  immured  within 
the  horrible  pen ! 

Left  to  ourselves,  with  absolutely  nothing  to  do  but  to 
brood  over  our  positions,  bewail  our  lots,  catch  the  taint  of 
disease  from  each  other,  and  passively  abide  in  our  prison-pen, 
we  were  soon  in  a  fair  state  of  rotting,  while  yet  alive.  The 
reaction  from  the  excitement  of  the  battle-field,  and  the 
cheerful  presence  of  exulting  thousands,  was  suspended  for  a 
few  days  by  travel  up  the  Mississippi,  the  generosity  of  lady- 
sympathisers  in  St.  Louis,  and  the  trip  across  Illinois;  but, 
after  a  few  days,  it  set  in  strong  upon  us,  when  once  within 
the  bleak  camp  at  Chicago.  Everything  we  saw  and  touched 
added  its  pernicious  influence  —  the  melancholy  faces  of  those 
who  were  already  wearied  with  their  confinement,  the  num- 
bers of  the  sick,  the  premature  agedness  of  the  emaciated,  the 
distressing  degeneration  of  manhood,  the  plaints  of  suffering 
wretches,  the  increasing  bodily  discomfort  from  ever-multi- 
plying vermin,  which  infested  every  square  inch. 

Within  a  week,  our  new  draft  commenced  to  succumb  under 
the  maleficent  influences  of  our  surroundings.  Our  buildings 
swarmed  with  vermin,  the  dust-sweepings  were  alive  with 
them.  The  men  began  to  suffer  from  bilious  disorders ;  dysen- 
tery and  typhus  began  to  rage.  Day  after  day  my  company 
steadily  diminished;  and  every  morning  I  had  to  see  them 
carried  in  their  blankets  to  the  hospital,  whence  none  ever 
returned.    Those   not   yet  delirious,   or  too  weak  to  move 


210  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

unaided,  we  kept  with  us ;  but  the  dysentery  —  however  they 
contracted  it  —  was  of  a  peculiarly  epidemical  character,  and 
its  victims  were  perpetually  passing  us,  trembling  with  weak- 
ness, or  writhing  with  pain,  exasperating  our  senses  to  such 
a  degree  that  only  the  strong-minded  could  forego  some 
expression  of  their  disgust. 

The  latrines  were  all  at  the  rear  of  our  plank  barracks,  and 
each  time  imperious  nature  compelled  us  to  resort  to  them,  we 
lost  a  little  of  that  respect  and  consideration  we  owed  our 
fellow-creatures.  For,  on  the  way  thither,  we  saw  crowds  of 
sick  men,  who  had  fallen,  prostrate  from  weakness,  and  given 
themselves  wholly  to  despair;  and,  while  they  crawled  or 
wallowed  in  their  filth,  they  cursed  and  blasphemed  as  often 
as  they  groaned.  In  the  edge  of  the  gaping  ditches,  which 
provoked  the  gorge  to  look  at,  there  were  many  of  the  sick 
people,  who,  unable  to  leave,  rested  there  for  hours,  and 
made  their  condition  hopeless  by  breathing  the  stenchful 
atmosphere.  Exhumed  corpses  could  not  have  presented  any- 
thing more  hideous  than  dozens  of  these  dead-and-alive  men, 
who,  oblivious  to  the  weather,  hung  over  the  latrines,  or  lay 
extended  along  the  open  sewer,  with  only  a  few  gasps  inter- 
vening between  them  and  death.  Such  as  were  not  too  far 
gone  prayed  for  death,  saying,  'Good  God,  let  me  die!  Let 
me  go,  O  Lord!'  and  one  insanely  damned  his  vitals  and 
his  constitution,  because  his  agonies  were  so  protracted.  No 
self-respecting  being  could  return  from  their  vicinity  with- 
out feeling  bewildered  by  the  infinite  suffering,  his  existence 
degraded,  and  religion  and  sentiment  blasted. 

Yet,  indoors,  what  did  we  see?  Over  two  hundred  un- 
washed, unkempt,  uncombed  men,  in  the  dismalest  attitudes, 
occupied  in  relieving  themselves  from  hosts  of  vermin,  or 
sunk  in  gloomy  introspection,  staring  blankly,  with  heads 
between  their  knees,  at  nothing ;  weighed  down  by  a  surfeit  of 
misery,  internal  pains  furrowing  their  faces,  breathing  in  a 
fine  cloud  of  human  scurf,  and  dust  of  offensive  hay,  dead  to 
everything  but  the  flitting  fancies  of  the  hopeless ! 

One  intelligent  and  humane  supervisor  would  have  wrought 
wonders  at  this  period  with  us,  and  arrested  that  swift  demor- 
alization with  which  we  were  threatened.  None  of  us  were 
conspicuously  wise  out  of  our  own  sphere ;  and  of  sanitary 


PRISONER  OF  WAR  211 

laws  we  were  all  probably  as  ignorant  as  of  the  etiology  of 
sclerosis  of  the  nerve-centres.  In  our  colossal  ignorance,  we 
were  perhaps  doing  something  half-a-dozen  times  a  day,  as 
dangerous  as  eating  poison,  and  constantly  swallowing  a  few 
of  the  bacilli  of  typhus.  Even  had  we  possessed  the  necessary 
science  at  our  finger- tips,  we  could  not  have  done  much, 
unaided  by  the  authorities ;  but  when  the  authorities  were  as 
ignorant  as  ourselves,  —  I  cannot  believe  their  neglect  of  us 
was  intentional,  —  we  were  simply  doomed ! 

Every  morning,  the  wagons  came  to  the  hospital  and  dead- 
house,  to  take  away  the  bodies ;  and  I  saw  the  corpses  rolled 
in  their  blankets,  taken  to  the  vehicles,  and  piled  one  upon 
another,  as  the  New  Zealand  frozen-mutton  carcases  are 
carted  from  the  docks ! 

The  statistics  of  Andersonville  are  believed  to  show  that  the 
South  was  even  more  callous  towards  their  prisoners  than  the 
authorities  of  Camp  Douglas  were.  I  admit  that  we  were 
better  fed  than  the  Union  prisoners  were,  and  against  Colonel 
Milligan  and  Mr.  Shipman  I  have  not  a  single  accusation  to 
make.  It  was  the  age  that  was  brutally  senseless,  and  heed- 
lessly cruel,  It  was  lavish  and  wasteful  of  life,  and  had  not 
the  least  idea  of  what  civilised  warfare  ought  to  be,  except  in 
strategy.  It  was  at  the  end  of  the  flint-lock  age,  a  stupid  and 
heartless  age,  which  believed  that  the  application  of  every 
variety  of  torture  was  better  for  discipline  than  kindness, 
and  was  guilty,  during  the  war,  of  enormities  that  would  tax 
the  most  saintly  to  forgive. 

Just  as  the  thirties  were  stupider  and  crueller  than  the 
fifties,  and  the  fifties  were  more  bloody  than  the  seventies, 
in  the  mercantile  marine  service,  so  a  war  in  the  nineties 
will  be  much  more  civilized  than  the  Civil  War  of  the  sixties. 
Those  who  have  survived  that  war,  and  have  seen  brotherly 
love  re-established,  and  reconciliation  completed,  when  they 
think  of  Andersonville,  Libby,  Camp  Douglas,  and  other 
prisons,  and  of  the  blood  shed  in  2261  battles  and  skirmishes, 
must  in  this  present  peaceful  year  needs  think  that  a  moral 
epidemic  raged,  to  have  made  them  so  intensely  hate  then  what 
they  profess  to  love  now.  Though  a  democratic  government 
like  the  American  will  always  be  more  despotic  and  arbitrary 
than  that  of  a  constitutional  monarchy,  even  its  army  will 


212  HENRY   M.  STANLEY 

have  its  Red  Cross  societies,  and  Prisoners'  Aid  Society ;  and 
the  sights  we  saw  at  Camp  Douglas  will  never  be  seen  in 
America  again. 

Were  Colonel  Milligan  living  now,  he  would  admit  that 
a  better  system  of  latrines,  a  ration  of  soap,  some  travelling 
arrangements  for  lavatories,  a  commissioned  superintendent 
over  each  barrack,  a  brass  band,  the  loan  of  a  few  second- 
hand books,  magazines,  and  the  best-class  newspapers  (with 
all  war-news  cut  out) ,  would  have  been  the  salvation  of  two- 
thirds  of  those  who  died  at  Camp  Douglas;  and,  by  showing 
how  superior  the  United  States  Government  was  to  the  Con- 
federate States,  would  have  sent  the  exchanged  prisoners  back 
to  their  homes  in  a  spirit  more  reconciled  than  they  were. 
Those  in  authority  to-day  also  know  that,  though  when  in 
battle  it  is  necessary  to  fight  with  all  the  venom  of  fiends  for 
victory,  once  the  rifle  is  laid  down,  and  a  man  becomes  a 
prisoner,  a  gracious  treatment  is  more  efficacious  than  the 
most  revolting  cruelty.  Still,  the  civilized  world  is  densely 
ignorant.  It  has  improved  immensely  in  thirty  years,  but 
from  what  I  have  seen  in  my  travels  in  many  lands,  it  is  less 
disposed  to  be  kind  to  man  than  to  any  other  creatures ;  and 
yet,  none  of  all  God's  creatures  is  more  sadly  in  need  of  pro- 
tection than  he ! 

The  only  official  connected  with  Camp  Douglas  whom  I 
remember  with  pleasure  is  Mr.  Shipman,  the  commissary. 
He  was  gentlemanly  and  white-haired,  which,  added  to  his 
unvarying  benevolence  and  politeness,  caused  him  to  be  re- 
garded by  me  as  something  of  an  agreeable  wonder  in  that 
pestful  yard.  After  some  two  days'  acquaintance,  while  draw- 
ing the  rations,  he  sounded  me  as  to  my  intentions.  I  scarcely 
comprehended  him  at  the  outset,  for  Camp  Douglas  was  not 
a  place  to  foster  intentions.  He  explained  that,  if  I  were  tired 
of  being  a  prisoner,  I  could  be  released  by  enrolling  myself  as  a 
Unionist,  that  is,  becoming  a  Union  soldier.  My  eyes  opened 
very  wide  at  this,  and  I  shook  my  head,  and  said,  'Oh,  no,  I 
could  not  do  that.'  Nothing  could  have  been  more  unlikely ; 
I  had  not  even  dreamed  that  such  an  act  was  possible. 

A  few  days  later,  I  said  to  Mr.  Shipman,  'They  have  taken 
two  wagon-loads  of  dead  men  away  this  morning.'  He  gave  a 
sympathetic  shrug,  as  if  to  say,  'It  was  all  very  sad,  but  what 


PRISONER  OF  WAR  213 

can  we  do?'  He  then  held  forth  upon  the  superiority  of  the 
North,  the  certainty  of  defeat  for  the  South,  the  pity  it  was 
to  see  young  men  throw  their  lives  away  for  such  a  cause  as 
slavery,  and  so  on ;  in  short,  all  that  a  genuinely  kind  man, 
but  fervidly  Northern,  could  say.  His  love  embraced  North- 
erners and  Southerners  alike,  for  he  saw  no  distinction  be- 
tween them,  except  that  the  younger  brother  had  risen  to 
smite  the  elder,  and  must  be  punished  until  he  repented. 

But  it  was  useless  to  try  and  influence  me  by  political  rea- 
sons. In  the  first  place,  I  was  too  ignorant  in  politics,  and  too 
slow  of  comprehension,  to  follow  his  reasonings ;  in  the  second 
place,  every  American  friend  of  mine  was  a  Southerner,  and 
my  adopted  father  was  a  Southerner,  and  I  was  blind  through 
my  gratitude ;  and,  in  the  third  place,  I  had  a  secret  scorn  for 
people  who  could  kill  one  another  for  the  sake  of  African 
slaves.  There  were  no  blackies  in  Wales,  and  why  a  sooty- 
faced  nigger  from  a  distant  land  should  be  an  element  of 
disturbance  between  white  brothers,  was  a  puzzle  to  me.  I 
should  have  to  read  a  great  deal  about  him,  ascertain  his 
wrongs  and  his  rights,  and  wherein  his  enslavement  was 
unjust  and  his  liberty  was  desirable,  before  I  could  venture 
upon  giving  an  opinion  adverse  to  20,000,000  Southerners. 
As  I  had  seen  him  in  the  South,  he  was  a  half-savage,  who 
had  been  exported  by  his  own  countrymen,  and  sold  in 
open  market,  agreeable  to  time-honoured  custom.  Had  the 
Southerners  invaded  Africa  and  made  captives  of  the  blacks,  I 
might  have  seen  some  justice  in  decent  and  pious  people  ex- 
claiming against  the  barbarity.  But,  so  far  as  I  knew  of  the 
matter,  it  was  only  the  accident  of  a  presidential  election 
which  had  involved  the  North  and  South  in  a  civil  war,  and  I 
could  not  take  it  upon  me  to  do  anything  more  than  stand  by 
my  friends. 

But,  in  the  course  of  six  weeks,  more  powerful  influences 
than  Mr.  Shipman's  gentle  reasoning  were  undermining  my 
resolve  to  remain  as  a  prisoner.  These  were  the  increase  in 
sickness,  the  horrors  of  the  prison,  the  oily  atmosphere,  the 
ignominious  cartage  of  the  dead,  the  useless  flight  of  time, 
the  fear  of  being  incarcerated  for  years,  which  so  affected  my 
spirits  that  I  felt  a  few  more  days  of  these  scenes  would  drive 
me  mad.  Finally,  I  was  persuaded  to  accept  with  several  other 


214  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

prisoners  the  terms  of  release,  and  enrolled  myself  in  the  U.  S. 
Artillery  Service,  and,  on  the  4th  June,  was  once  more  free  to 
inhale  the  fresh  air. 

But,  after  two  or  three  days'  service,  the  germs  of  the  prison- 
disease,  which  had  swept  so  many  scores  of  fine  young  fellows 
to  untimely  graves,  broke  out  with  virulence  in  my  system. 
I  disguised  my  complaint  as  much  as  was  possible,  for,  having 
been  a  prisoner,  I  felt  myself  liable  to  be  suspected ;  but,  on 
the  day  of  our  arrival  at  Harper's  Ferry,  dysentery  and  low 
fever  laid  me  prostrate.  I  was  conveyed  to  the  hospital,  and 
remained  there  until  the  22nd  June,  when  I  was  discharged 
out  of  the  service,  a  wreck. 

My  condition  at  this  time  was  as  low  as  it  would  be  possible 
to  reduce  a  human  being  to,  outside  of  an  American  prison. 
I  had  not  a  penny  in  my  pocket;  a  pair  of  blue  military 
trousers  clothed  my  nethers,  a  dark  serge  coat  covered  my 
back,  and  a  mongrel  hat  my  head.  I  knew  not  where  to  go : 
the  seeds  of  disease  were  still  in  me,  and  I  could  not  walk  three 
hundred  yards  without  stopping  to  gasp  for  breath.  As,  like  a 
log,  I  lay  at  night  under  the  stars,  heated  by  fever,  and  bleed- 
ing internally,  I  thought  I  ought  to  die,  according  to  what  I 
had  seen  of  those  who  yielded  to  death.  As  my  strength  de- 
parted, death  advanced ;  and  there  was  no  power  or  wish  to 
resist  left  in  me.  But  with  each  dawn  there  would  come  a  tiny 
bit  of  hope,  which  made  me  forget  all  about  death,  and  think 
only  of  food,  and  of  the  necessity  of  rinding  a  shelter.  Hagers- 
town  is  but  twenty-four  miles  from  Harper's  Ferry;  but  it 
took  me  a  week  to  reach  a  farm-house  not  quite  half-way.  I 
begged  permission  to  occupy  an  out-house,  which  may  have 
been  used  to  store  corn,  and  the  farmer  consented.  My  lips 
were  scaled  with  the  fever,  eyes  swimming,  face  flushed  red, 
under  the  layer  of  a  week's  dirt  —  the  wretchedest  object 
alive,  possibly,  as  I  felt  I  was,  by  the  manner  the  good  fellow 
tried  to  hide  his  disgust.  What  of  it  ?  He  spread  some  hay  in 
the  out-house,  and  I  dropped  on  it  without  the  smallest  wish 
to  leave  again.  It  was  several  days  before  I  woke  to  con- 
sciousness, to  find  a  mattress  under  me,  and  different  clothes 
on  me.  I  had  a  clean  cotton  shirt,  and  my  face  and  hands 
were  without  a  stain.  A  man  named  Humphreys  was  attend- 
ing to  me,  and  he  was  the  deputy  of  the  farmer  in  his  absence. 


PRISONER  OF  WAR  215 

By  dint  of  assiduous  kindness,  and  a  diet  of  milk,  I  gained 
strength  slowly,  until  I  was  able  to  sit  in  the  orchard,  when, 
with  open  air,  exercise,  and  more  generous  food,  I  rapidly 
mended.  In  the  early  part  of  July,  I  was  able  to  assist  in  the 
last  part  of  the  harvest,  and  to  join  in  the  harvest  supper. 

The  farm-house  where  my  Good  Samaritan  lived  is  situated 
close  to  the  Hagerstown  pike  —  a  few  miles  beyond  Sharps- 
burg.  My  friend's  name  is  one  of  the  few  that  has  escaped  my 
memory.  I  stayed  with  him  until  the  middle  of  August,  well- 
fed  and  cared  for,  and  when  I  left  him  he  insisted  on  driving 
me  to  Hagerstown,  and  paying  my  railway  fare  to  Baltimore, 
via  Harrisburg.1 

1  Stanley  remembered,  afterwards,  that  the  farm-house  belonged  to  a  Mr.  Baker,  and 
that,  in  June,  1862,  he  had  walked  there  from  Harper's  Ferry  —  three  miles  from 
Sharpsburg,  and  nine  miles  from  Hagerstown.  Mr.  Baker's  house  seemed  to  have  been 
near  the  cross-roads  —  near  the  extreme  left  flank  of  McClellan's  army.  —  D.  S. 


PART   II 

THE    LIFE    FROM    STANLEY'S   JOURNALS 

NOTES,  ETC. 


CHAPTER  X 
JOURNALISM 

UP  to  this  point  Stanley  has  told  his  own  story.  The  chapter 
which  follows  is  almost  wholly  a  weaving  together  of  mate- 
rial which  he  left. 
That  material  consists,  first,  of  an  occasional  and  very  brief  diary, 
which  he  kept  from  1862 ;  then,  at  irregular  intervals  through  many 
years,  entries  in  a  fuller  journal,  and  occasional  comments  and  re- 
trospects in  his  note-books,  during  the  last  peaceful  years  of  life. 

He  was  discharged  from  Harper's  Ferry,  June  22,  1862.  Then  he 
seems  to  have  turned  his  hand  to  one  resource  and  another,  to  sup- 
port himself;  we  find  him  '  harvesting  in  Maryland,'  and,  later,  on 
an  oyster-schooner,  getting  upon  his  feet,  and  out  of  the  whirlpool 
of  war  into  which  he  had  naturally  been  drawn  by  mere  propinquity, 
so  to  speak;  now  his  heart  turned  with  longing  to  his  own  kin,  and 
the  belated  affection  which  he  trusted  he  might  find. 

November,  1862.  I  arrived,  in  the  ship  'E.  Sherman,'  at 
Liverpool.  I  was  very  poor,  in  bad  health,  and  my  clothes 
were  shabby.  I  made  my  way  to  Denbigh,  to  my  mother's 
house.  With  wrhat  pride  I  knocked  at  the  door,  buoyed  up  by 
a  hope  of  being  able  to  show  what  manliness  I  had  acquired, 
not  unwilling,  perhaps,  to  magnify  what  I  meant  to  become; 
though  what  I  was,  the  excellence  of  my  present  position, 
was  not  so  obvious  to  myself!  Like  a  bride  arraying  herself 
in  her  best  for  her  lover,  I  had  arranged  my  story  to  please 
one  who  would,  at  last,  I  hoped,  prove  an  affectionate  mother ! 
But  I  found  no  affection,  and  I  never  again  sought  for,  or 
expected,  what  I  discovered  had  never  existed. 

I  was  told  that  '  I  was  a  disgrace  to  them  in  the  eyes  of 
their  neighbours,  and  they  desired  me  to  leave  as  speedily 
as  possible.' 

This  experience  sank  so  deep,  and,  together  with  the  life  in  earlier 
years,  had  so  marked  an  effect  on  Stanley's  character,  that  it 
seemed  best  to  give  it  to  the  reader  just  as  he  noted  it  down  as  he 
mused  over  his  life,  near  its  close.  When  fame  and  prosperity  came 
to  him,  he  was  just  to  the  claims  of  blood,  and  gave  practical  help ; 
but  the  tenderness  which  lay  deep  in  his  nature,  and  the  repeated 


220  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

and  hopeless  rebuffs  it  encountered,  produced,  in  the  reaction,  an 
habitual,  strong  self-suppression.  The  tenderness  was  there,  through 
all  the  stirring  years  of  action  and  achievement;  but  it  was  guarded 
against  such  shocks  as  had  earlier  wounded  it,  by  an  habitual 
reserve,  and  an  austere  self-command. 

He  returned  to  America,  and,  with  a  sort  of  rebound  towards  the 
world  of  vigorous  action,  threw  himself,  for  a  time,  into  the  life  of 
the  sea.  The  motive,  apparently,  was  partly  as  a  ready  means  of 
livelihood,  and  partly  a  relish  for  adventure ;  and  adventure  he  cer- 
tainly found.  Through  1863,  and  the  early  months  of  1864,  he  was 
in  one  ship  and  another,  in  the  merchant  service ;  sailing  to  the  West 
Indies,  Spain,  and  Italy. 

He  condenses  a  ship-wreck  into  a  two-line  entry :  '  Wrecked  off 
Barcelona.  Crew  lost,  in  the  night.  Stripped  naked,  and  swam  to 
shore.   Barrack  of  Carbineers  .   .  .  demanded  my  papers! ' 

The  end  of  1863  finds  him  in  Brooklyn,  New  York,  where  we  have 
another  brief  chronicle :  — 

Boarding  with  Judge  X .    Judge  drunk ;  tried  to  kill 

his  wife  with  hatchet ;  attempted  three  times.  —  I  held  him 
down  all  night.  Next  morning,  exhausted ;  lighted  cigar  in 
parlour ;  wife  came  down  —  insulted  and  raved  at  me  for 
smoking  in  her  house ! 

In  August,  1864,  he  enlisted  in  the  United  States  Navy,  on  the 
receiving  ship  'North  Carolina,'  and  was  then  assigned  to  the 
'Minnesota,'  and  afterwards  to  the  'Moses  H.  Stuyvesant,'  where 
he  served  in  the  capacity  of  ship's  writer.  Nothing  shows  that  he 
was  impelled  by  any  special  motive  of  sympathy  with  the  national 
cause.  It  has  been  told  how  he  went  into  the  Confederate  service,  as 
a  boy  naturally  goes,  carried  along  with  the  crowd.  At  this  later  time 
he  may  have  caught  something  of  the  enthusiasm  for  the  Union  that 
filled  the  community  about  him ;  or,  very  probably,  he  may  have 
gone  on  a  fighting  ship  simply  as  more  exciting  to  his  adventurous 
spirit  than  a  peaceful  merchantman.  In  any  case,  he  embarked  on 
what  proved  to  be  the  beginning  of  his  true  occupation  and  career, 
as  the  observer  and  reporter  of  stirring  events ;  later,  he  was  to  play 
his  part  as  a  maker  of  events. 

There  is  nothing  to  show  just  how  or  why  he  became  a  newspaper 
correspondent,  but  we  know  the  where ;  and  no  ambitious  reporter 
could  ask  a  better  chance  for  his  first  story  than  Stanley  had  when 
he  witnessed  the  first  and  second  attacks  of  the  Federal  forces  on 
Fort  Fisher,  North  Carolina.  Those  attacks  are  part  of  the  history 
of  the  great  war;  how,  in  December,  1864,  General  Butler  assailed 
the  port  from  the  sea,  the  explosion  under  its  walls  of  a  vessel 
charged  with  powder,  being  a  performance  as  dramatic  as  many 
of  Butler's  military  exploits ;  how,  a  year  later,  a  carefully-planned 


JOURNALISM  221 

expedition  under  General  Terry,  attacked  the  fort;  how,  after  a 
two  days'  bombardment  by  the  fleet,  two  thousand  sailors  and 
marines  were  landed,  under  instructions  to  '  board  the  fort  in  a  sea- 
man-like manner ' ;  how  they  were  repelled  by  a  murderous  fire, 
while  a  force  of  soldiers  assaulting  from  another  side  drove  the 
defenders  back,  in  a  series  of  hand-to-hand  contests,  till  the  fort 
was  won. 

On  both  those  occasions,  it  fell  to  Stanley  to  watch  the  fight, 
to  tell  the  story  of  it  in  his  own  lucid  and  vigorous  style,  and  to 
have  his  letters  welcomed  by  the  newspapers,  and  given  to  the 
world. 

Three  months  later,  in  April,  1865,  the  war  was  ended,  and 
Stanley  left  the  Navy.  Then,  for  a  twelve-month,  his  diary  gives 
only  such  glimpses  of  him  as  an  occasional  name  of  a  place  with 
date.  '  St.  Joseph,  Missouri,  —  across  the  Plains,  —  Indians,  — 
Salt  Lake  City,  —  Denver,  —  Black  Hawk,  —  Omaha.'  Apparently 
through  this  time,  he  was  impelled  by  an  overflowing  youthful 
energy,  and  an  innate  love  of  novelty  and  adventure. 

In  his  later  years,  he  told  how,  in  his  early  days,  his  exuberant 
vigour  was  such,  that  when  a  horse  stood  across  his  path  his  impulse 
was,  not  to  go  round,  but  to  jump  over  it !  And  he  had  a  keen  relish 
for  the  sights  and  novelties,  the  many-coloured  life  of  the  West.  So 
he  went  light-heartedly  on  his  way,  — 

'For  to  admire  and  for  to  see, 

For  to  behold  the  world  so  wide.' 

Through  this  period  he  seems  to  have  done  more  or  less  news- 
paper correspondence,  and  to  have  tended  towards  that  as  a  pro- 
fession. Here  belongs  an  episode  which  is  told  in  one  of  the 
autobiographic  fragments;  the  reckless  frolic  of  boys  recounted 
with  the  sobriety  of  age. 

Being  connected  with  the  press,  my  acquaintance  was 
sought  by  some  theatrical  people  in  Omaha ;  at  which,  being 
young  and  foolish,  I  was  much  gratified.  After  a  benefit  per- 
formance, which  I  was  principally  the  means  of  getting  up 
for  them,  I  supped  with  them,  and  for  the  first  time,  I  drank 
so  much  wine  that  I  tasted  the  joys  and  miseries  of  intoxica- 
tion. My  impression  will  not  be  forgotten,  for  though  the 
faculty  of  self-restraint  was  helpless,  the  brain  was  not  so 
clouded  that  I  did  not  know  what  I  was  about.  I  was  con- 
scious of  an  irrepressible  hilarity,  which  provoked  me  to  fling 
decorum  to  the  winds,  and  of  being  overwhelmingly  affec- 
tionate to  my  boon  companions. 

The  women  of  the  party  appeared  more  beautiful  than 
houris,  especially  one  for  whom  I  felt  ecstatic  tenderness. 


222  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

When  we  had  supped  and  drank  and  exhausted  our  best 
stories,  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  we  agreed  to  sepa- 
rate, the  ladies  to  their  own  homes,  but  we  men  to  a  frolic, 
or  lark,  in  the  open.  The  effect  of  wine  was  at  its  highest. 
We  sallied  out,  singing,  'WTe  won't  go  home  till  morning.' 
I  was  soon  conscious  that  my  tread  was  different,  that  the 
sidewalk  reminded  me  of  the  deck  of  a  ship  in  a  gale,  the 
lamp-posts  were  not  perpendicular,  and  leaned  perilously 
over,  which  made  me  babble  about  the  singular  waywardness 
and  want  of  uprightness  in  houses  and  lamp-posts  and  awning 
columns,  and  the  curious  elasticity  of  the  usually  firm  earth. 
I  wished  to  halt  and  meditate  about  this  sudden  change  of 
things  in  general.  Scraps  of  marine  songs  about  the  '  briny 
ocean,'  'brave  sailor  boys,'  and  'good  ships  be  on  her  waters,* 
were  suggested  to  me  by  the  rocking  ground,  and  burst  in 
fluent  song  from  my  lips ;  a  noisier  set  than  we  became,  it  is 
scarcely  possible  to  imagine. 

I  wonder  now  we  were  not  shot  at,  for  the  Omaha  people 
were  not  very  remarkable  for  forbearance  when  angered,  and 
a  charge  of  small  shot  would  have  been  no  more  than  we  each 
of  us  well  deserved.  But  someone  suggested  that  vengeful 
men  were  after  us,  and  that  was  enough  to  send  us  scampering, 
each  to  his  home,  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  I  reached 
my  place  without  accident,  and  without  meeting  a  single 
constable;  and,  plunging  into  bed,  I  fell  into  a  deep  sleep. 
My  first  waking  made  me  aware  of  a  racking  headache,  and 
a  deep  conviction  that  I  had  behaved  disgracefully. 

I  was  enriched,  however,  by  an  experience  that  has  lasted 
all  my  life,  for  I  then  vowed  that  this  should  be  the  last  time 
I  would  have  to  condemn  myself  for  a  scandalous  act  of  the 

kind.   '  What  an  egregious  fool   I  have  been !  Hang  N 

and  all  his  gang !'   was  my  thought  for  many  a  day. 

Like  David  Copperfield's  first  supper-party,  one  such  lesson  was 
enough  for  a  man  who  was  to  do  a  man's  part ;  he  never  again  fell 
under  Circe's  spell.  But  the  hunger  for  robust  exploit  was  there, 
and  he  had  found  a  companion  of  kindred  tastes.  With  W.  H.  Cook, 
in  May,  1866,  he  started  for  Denver.  'We  bought  some  planking 
and  tools,  and,  in  a  few  hours,  constructed  a  flat-bottomed  boat. 
Having  furnished  it  with  provisions  and  arms  against  the  Indians, 
towards  evening  we  floated  down  the  Platte  River.  After  twice  up- 
setting, and  many  adventures  and  narrow  escapes,  we  reached  the 


JOURNALISM  223 

Missouri  River.'  From  Omaha  they  travelled  to  Boston,  where  in 
July,  1866,  they  took  a  sailing-ship  for  Smyrna. 

They  had  planned  to  go  far  into  Asia.  The  precise  nature  of  their 
plan  is  not  recounted ;  but  there  is  little  doubt  that  Stanley  was 
acting  partly  as  a  newspaper-correspondent.  What  was  the  base 
of  supplies,  or  how  ambitious  were  their  hopes,  is  not  told ;  but 
they  went  on  their  own  resources,  and  were  well  provided  with 
money.  Stanley  seems  from  the  first  to  have  commanded  good 
prices  for  his  newspaper  work,  and  he  notes  that  he  early  took 
warning  from  the  extravagance  and  dissipation  which  brought 
many  a  bright  young  fellow  in  the  profession  to  grief. 

1 1  practiced  a  rigid  economy,  punished  my  appetites,  and,  little 
by  little,  the  sums  acquired  through  this  abstinence  began  to  impart 
a  sense  of  security,  and  gave  an  independence  to  my  bearing  which, 
however  I  might  strive  to  conceal  it,  betrayed  that  I  was  deliv- 
ered from  the  dependent  state.'  Thus,  presumably,  he  had  saved 
the  sinews  of  war  for  this  expedition.  The  opening  stage,  from  the 
approach  to  the  Asian  shore,  was  crowded  with  interest.  Stanley 
records  with  enthusiasm  the  appeal  of  classic  and  biblical  associa- 
tion, the  strangeness  and  fascination  of  Oriental  scenery,  the  aspects 
of  country  and  people.  On  leaving  Smyrna,  they  plunged  into  the 
interior.  It  was  his  first  draught  of  the  wonder-world  of  the  Orient, 
and  he  drank  eagerly. 

But  a  speedy  change  fell  on  the  travellers.  First,  the  American 
lad  whom  they  had  brought  with  them  as  an  attendant,  out  of  sheer 
mischief  set  a  fire  ablaze,  which  spread,  and  threatened  wide  destruc- 
tion, bringing  upon  them  a  crowd  of  infuriated  villagers,  whom 
they  had  great  difficulty  in  appeasing.  Then,  when  they  had  pene- 
trated into  wilder  regions,  they  fell  in  with  a  treacherous  guide, 
who  brought  upon  them  a  horde  of  Turkomans.  They  were  severely 
beaten,  and  robbed  of  all  their  money,  —  twelve  hundred  dollars,  — 
their  letter  of  credit,  and  all  their  personal  equipment ;  then  dragged 
to  a  village,  and  arraigned  as  malefactors;  then  hustled  from_ place 
to  place  for  five  days,  with  indignity  and  abuse,  to  escape  immi- 
nent death  only  by  the  intervention  of  a  benevolent  old  man.^ 

The  semi-civilized  prison  to  which  they  were  at  last  consigned 
proved  a  haven  of  refuge,  for  there  appeared  on  the  scene  a  Mr. 
Peloso,  Agent  of  the  Imperial  Ottoman  Bank  at  Constantinople, 
who  bestirred  himself  in  the  friendliest  manner  on  their  behalf. 
Setting  the  facts  of  the  case  before  the  Turkish  Governor^  he  com- 
pletely turned  the  tables  on  the  ruffianly  accusers  by  getting  them 
put  in  prison  to  await  their  trial,  while  Stanley  and  his  companions 
moved  on  their  way  to  Constantinople.  There,  again,  they  received 
most  effective  friendship  at  the  hands  of  Mr.  Edward  Joy  Morris, 
the  American  Minister,  and  Mr.  J.  H.  Goodenow,  the  American 
Consul-general.  Warm  hospitality  was  shewn  them;  Mr.  Morris 
advanced  £150  for  their  needs,  their  assailants  were  tried,  found 


224  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

guilty,  and  punished;  ultimately  the  Turkish  Government  made 
good  the  money  stolen. 

That  was  the  end  of  the  Stanley-Cook  exploration  of  Asia.  The 
explorer's  first  quest  had  met  a  staggering  set-back.  But,  '  repulse 
is  interpreted  according  to  the  man's  nature,'  as  Morley  puts  it; 
1  one  of  the  differences  between  the  first-rate  man  and  the  fifth-rate 
lies  in  the  vigour  with  which  the  first-rate  man  recovers  from  this 
reaction,  and  crushes  it  down,  and  again  flings  himself  once  more 
upon  the  breach.' 


CHAPTER  XI 

WEST  AND   EAST 

INDIAN   WARS   OF   THE   WEST.  —  ABYSSINIAN    CAMPAIGN,  ETC. 

STANLEY  writes :  'My  first  entry  into  journalistic  life 
as  a  selected  "  special"  was  at  St.  Louis  after  my  return 
from  Asia  Minor.  Hitherto,  I  had  only  been  an  attache, 
or  supernumerary,  as  it  were,  whose  communications  had  been 
accepted  and  most  handsomely  rewarded,  when,  as  during 
the  two  bombardments  of  Fort  Fisher,  they  described  events 
of  great  public  interest.  I  was  now  instructed  to  "write-up" 
North-western  Missouri,  and  Kansas,  and  Nebraska.  In 
1867,  I  was  delegated  to  join  General  Hancock's  expedi- 
tion against  the  Kiowas  and  Comanches,  and,  soon  after  the 
termination  of  a  bloodless  campaign,  was  asked  to  accompany 
the  Peace  Commission  to  the  Indians.* 

These  two  expeditions  he  reported  in  a  series  of  letters  to  the 
1  Missouri  Democrat,'  which,  in  1895,  he  made  into  the  first  of  two 
volumes,  '  My  Early  Travels  and  Adventures.'  It  is  the  graphic 
story  of  a  significant  and  momentous  contact  of  civilization  with 
savagery.  Two  years  after  the  close  of  the  Civil  War,  the  tide  of 
settlers  was  swiftly  advancing  over  the  great  prairies  of  the  West. 
The  Union  Pacific  Railroad  was  being  pushed  forward  at  the  rate 
of  four  miles  a  day.  The  Powder  River  military  road  was  being  con- 
structed to  Montana,  and  forts  erected  along  its  line,  through  the 
best  and  most  reliable  hunting-grounds  of  the  Sioux,  and  without 
their  consent.  The  Indians  throughout  a  wide  region  were  thrown 
into  a  ferment,  and  there  were  outbreaks  against  the  white  settlers. 
In  March,  a  force  was  sent  out  under  General  Hancock,  which 
Stanley  accompanied,  with  the  general  expectation  of  severe  fight- 
ing. But  General  Hancock  soon  imparted  to  Stanley  his  views  and 
purposes,  which  were  to  feel  the  temper  of  the  Indians,  to  see  who 
were  guilty,  and  who  were  not ;  to  learn  which  tribes  were  friendly- 
disposed;  to  separate  them  from  the  tribes  bent  on  war;  to  make 
treaties  wherever  practicable;  and  to  post  more  troops  on  certain 
roads. 

In  a  march  of  four  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  he  practically  accom- 
plished this  plan.  The  hostile  Sioux  and  Cheyennes  were  detached 
from  their  allies,  the  Kiowas,  Arapahoes,  and  Comanches ;  and  when 


226  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

the  hostiles  stole  away  from  the  conference,  and  began  outrages  on 
the  settlers,  they  were  punished  by  the  destruction  of  their  villages. 
But  after  Hancock's  return,  the  plains  still  seethed  with  menace  and 
occasional  outbreaks,  and  a  general  Indian  war  seemed  imminent. 

In  July,  Congress  met  the  emergency  by  the  appointment  and  de- 
spatch of  a  Peace  Commission.  At  its  head  was  General  Sherman, 
with  a  group  of  distinguished  officers,  two  chief  Indian  Commis- 
sioners, and  Senator  Henderson,  of  Missouri.  Sherman,  after  some 
very  effective  speeches  to  the  Indians,  left  the  further  work  to  the 
other  Peace  Commissioners,  who  travelled  far  and  wide  over  the 
Plains,  for  two  thousand  miles.  They  met  the  principal  tribes  in 
council,  and  made  a  series  of  treaties,  which,  with  the  distribution 
of  presents,  and  the  general  view  impressed  upon  the  Indians  in 
addresses,  frank,  friendly,  and  truthful,  brought  about  a  general 
pacification. 

In  Stanley's  picturesque  story  of  all  this,  perhaps  the  most  strik- 
ing feature  is  the  speeches  of  the  Indian  chiefs  as  they  set  forth  the 
feelings  and  wishes  of  their  people.  Said  old  Santanta;  '  I  love  the 
land  and  the  buffalo,  and  will  not  part  with  them.  I  don't  want  any 
of  those  medicine  houses  built  in  the  country ;  I  want  the  papooses 
brought  up  exactly  as  I  am.  I  have  word  that  you  intend  to  set- 
tle us  on  a  Reservation  near  the  mountains.  I  don't  want  to  settle 
there.  I  love  to  roam  over  the  wide  prairie,  and,  when  I  do  it,  I  feel 
free  and  happy;  but,  when  we  settle  down,  we  grow  pale  and  die.' 

1  Few,'  writes  Stanley,  '  can  read  the  speeches  of  the  Indian  chiefs 
without  feeling  deep  sympathy  for  them;  they  move  us  by  their 
pathos  and  mournful  dignity.  But  they  were  asking  the  impossible. 
The  half  of  a  continent  could  not  be  kept  as  a  buffalo  pasture  and 
hunting-ground.'  Reviewing  the  situation  many  years  later,  he  pro- 
nounces that  the  decline  and  disappearance  of  the  Indians  has  been 
primarily  due,  not  to  the  wrongs  by  the  whites,  but  to  their  innate 
savagery,  their  mutual  slaughter,  the  ravages  of  disease,  stimulated 
by  unsanitary  conditions;  and,  especially,  the  increased  destructive- 
ness  of  their  inter-tribal  wars,  after  they  had  obtained  fire-arms  from 
the  whites.  His  account  of  the  complaints  laid  before  the  Commis- 
sioners shows  that  there  were  real  and  many  wrongs  on  the  part  of 
the  whites.  To  one  story  of  a  wanton  murder,  and  the  comment, 
1  Those  things  I  tell  you  to  show  you  that  the  pale-faces  have  done 
wrong  as  well  as  the  Indians,'  that  stout  old  veteran  of  the  Plains, 
General  Harney,  replied:  'That 's  so,  the  Indians  are  a  great  deal 
better  than  we  are.'  But  of  the  broad  purpose  of  the  Government, 
and  the  spirit  in  which  the  Commission  acted,  Stanley  writes :  '  These 
letters  describe  the  great  efforts  made  by  the  United  States  Govern- 
ment to  save  the  unfortunate  Indians  from  the  consequences  of 
their  own  rash  acts.  The  speeches  of  General  Hancock  and  General 
Sherman  and  the  Peace  Commissioners  faithfully  reflect  the  senti- 
ments of  the  most  cultivated  Americans  towards  them,  and  are 
genuine  exhortations  to  the  Indians  to  stand  aside  from  the  over- 


WEST  AND   EAST  227 

whelming  wave  of  white  humanity  which  is  resistlessly  rolling 
towards  the  Pacific,  and  to  take  refuge  on  the  Reservations,  where 
they  will  be  fed,  clothed,  protected,  and  educated  in  the  arts  of 
industry  and  Christian  and  civilised  principles.'  The  replies  of  the 
Indian  chiefs  no  less  faithfully  reflect  their  proud  contempt  of  dan- 
ger, and  betray,  in  many  instances,  a  consciousness  of  the  sad  destiny 
awaiting  them. 

In  all  this,  Stanley  was  unconsciously  acquiring  a  preliminary 
lesson  in  dealing  with  savage  races.  The  tone  in  which  Sherman, 
Henderson,  and  Commissioner  Taylor,  spoke  to  the  Indians,  now 
as  to  warriors,  now  as  to  children,  gave  hints  which,  later,  Stanley 
put  to  good  use.  And  the  experience  of  the  Indians  suggests  a 
parallel  with  that  of  the  Congo  natives  as  each  met  the  whites.  The 
wise  and  generous  purposes  of  men  like  Sherman  and  Taylor,  as 
afterwards  of  Stanley,  were  woefully  impeded  in  their  execution  by 
the  less  fine  temper  of  their  subordinates. 

And  now,  from  the  West,  Stanley  goes  to  the  East.  The  point  of 
departure  is  given  in  the  Journal. 

January  1st,  1868.  Last  year  was  mainly  spent  by  me  in 
the  western  Territories,  as  a  special  correspondent  of  the 
1  Missouri  Democrat/  and  a  contributor  to  several  journals, 
such  as  the  'New  York  Herald,'  'Tribune,'  'Times,'  'Chicago 
Republican,'  'Cincinnati  Commercial,'  and  others.  From  the 
1  Democrat'  I  received  fifteen  dollars  per  week,  and  expenses 
of  travel ;  but,  by  my  contributions  to  the  other  journals,  I 
have  been  able  to  make  on  an  average  ninety  dollars  per  wreek, 
as  my  correspondence  was  of  public  interest,  being  the  records 
of  the  various  expeditions  against  the  warlike  Indians  of  the 
plains.  By  economy  and  hard  work,  though  now  and  then 
foolishly  impulsive,  I  have  been  able  to  save  three  thousand 
dollars,  that  is,  six  hundred  pounds.  Hearing  of  the  British 
expedition  to  Abyssinia,  and  as  the  Indian  troubles  have 
ceased,  I  ventured  at  the  beginning  of  December  last  to 
throw  up  my  engagement  with  the  'Democrat,'  proceeded 
to  Cincinnati  and  Chicago,  and  collected  my  dues,  which 
were  promptly  paid  to  me ;  and  in  two  cases,  especially  the 
'Chicago  Republican,'  most  handsomely. 

I  then  came  over  to  New  York,  and  the  '  Tribune'  and 
'Times'  likewise  paid  me  well.  John  Russell  Young,  the 
Editor  of  the  New  York  'Tribune,'  was  pleased  to  be  very 
complimentary,  and  said  he  was  sorry  he  knew  of  nothing 
else  in  which  he  could  avail  himself  of  the  services  of  'such  an 


228  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

indefatigable  correspondent. '  Bowing  my  thanks,  I  left  the 
*  Tribune,'  and  proceeded  to  the  'Herald'  office;  by  a  spasm 
of  courage,  I  asked  for  Mr.  Bennett.  By  good  luck,  my  card 
attracted  his  attention,  and  I  was  invited  to  his  presence.  I 
found  myself  before  a  tall,  fierce-eyed,  and  imperious-looking 
young  man,  who  said,  '  Oh,  you  are  the  correspondent  who 
has  been  following  Hancock  and  Sherman  lately.  Well,  I 
must  say  your  letters  and  telegrams  have  kept  us  very  well 
informed.  I  wish  I  could  offer  you  something  permanent,  for 
we  want  active  men  like  you.' 

1  You  are  very  kind  to  say  so,  and  I  am  emboldened  to  ask 
you  if  I  could  not  offer  myself  to  you  for  the  Abyssinian 
expedition.' 

'  I  do  not  think  this  Abyssinian  expedition  is  of  sufficient 
interest  to  Americans,  but  on  what  terms  would  you  go  ? ' 

*  Either  as  a  special  at  a  moderate  salary,  or  by  letter.  Of 
course,  if  you  pay  me  by  the  letter,  I  should  reserve  the 
liberty  to  write  occasional  letters  to  other  papers.' 

'  We  do  not  like  to  share  our  news  that  way ;  but  we  would 
be  willing  to  pay  well  for  exclusive  intelligence.  Have  you 
ever  been  abroad  before?' 

'  Oh,  yes.  I  have  travelled  in  the  East,  and  been  to  Europe 
several  times.' 

'  Well,  how  would  you  like  to  do  this  on  trial  ?  Pay  your 
own  expenses  to  Abyssinia,  and  if  your  letters  are  up  to  the 
standard,  and  your  intelligence  is  early  and  exclusive,  you 
shall  be  well  paid  by  the  letter,  or  at  the  rate  by  which  we 
engage  our  European  specials,  and  you  will  be  placed  on  the 
permanent  list/ 

1  Very  well,  Sir.    I  am  at  your  service,  any  way  you  like.' 

1  When  do  you  intend  to  start?' 

'On  the  22nd,  by  the  steamer  "  Hecla.'" 

'That  is  the  day  after  to-morrow.  Well,  consider  it  ar- 
ranged. Just  wait  a  moment  while  I  write  to  our  agent  in 
London.' 

In  a  few  minutes  he  had  placed  in  my  hands  a  letter  to 
'  Colonel  Finlay  Anderson,  Agent  of  the  "  New  York  Herald," 
The  Queen's  Hotel,  St.  Martin's  Le  Grand,  London';  and 
thus  I  became  what  had  been  an  object  of  my  ambition,  a 
regular,  I  hope,  correspondent  of  the  '  New  York  Herald.' 


WEST  AND   EAST  229 

On  the  22nd,  in  the  morning,  I  received  letters  of  introduc- 
tion from  Generals  Grant  and  Sherman,  which  I  telegraphed 
for,  and  they  probably  will  be  of  some  assistance  among 
the  military  officers  on  the  English  expedition.  A  few  hours 
later,  the  mail  steamer  left.  I  had  taken  a  draft  on  London 
for  three  hundred  pounds,  and  had  left  the  remainder  in  the 
bank. 

The  letters  to  the  '  New  York  Herald,'  narrating  the  Abyssinian 
campaign,  were  afterwards  elaborated  into  permanent  form, 'the  last 
half  of  Stanley's  book,  Xoomassie  and  Magdala.'  The  campaign  has 
become  a  chapter  of  history ;  the  detention  of  Consul  Cameron  by 
the  tyrannical  King  Theodore,  of  Abyssinia,  continued  for  years; 
the  imprisonment  and  abuse  of  other  officers  and  missionaries,  to  the 
number  of  sixty;  the  fruitless  negotiations  for  their  release;  the  de- 
spatch from  India  of  a  little  army  of  English  and  Punjabis,  under 
Sir  Robert  Napier,  afterwards  Lord  Napier,  of  Magdala;  the  march- 
ing columns  of  six  thousand  men,  with  as  many  more  to  hold  the  sea- 
coast,  and  the  line  of  communication ;  the  slow  advance  for  months 
through  country  growing  more  wild  and  mountainous,  up  to  a  height 
of  ten  thousand  feet;  Napier's  patient  diplomacy  with  chiefs  and 
tribes  already  chafing  against  Theodore's  cruelties;  the  arrival 
before  the  stronghold;  the  sudden  impetuous  charge  of  the  King's 
force ;  the  quick  repulse  of  men  armed  with  spears  and  match-locks 
before  troops  handling  rocket-guns,  Sniders,  and  Enfields ;  the  sur- 
render of  the  captives,  and  their  appearance  among  their  deliverers ; 
the  spectacle  of  three  hundred  bodies  of  lately-massacred  prisoners ; 
the  next  day's  assault  and  capture  of  the  town ;  Theodore  shot  by 
his  own  hand;  the  return  to  the  coast:  all  this  Stanley  shared  and 
told. 

His  telling,  in  its  final  form,1  has  for  setting  an  account  of  ante- 
cedent events,  the  early  success  and  valour  of  Theodore,  his  degen- 
eracy, the  queer  interchange  of  courtesies  and  mutual  puzzlements 
between  Downing  Street  and  Magdala,  and  the  organisation  of 
the  rescue  force.  These  historical  prefaces  were  characteristic  of 
Stanley's  books ;  the  story  of  what  he  saw  had  an  illuminating  back- 
ground of  what  had  gone  before,  worked  out  by  assiduous  study. 
The  record  of  the  campaign  is  told  with  plentiful  illustration  of 
grand  and  novel  landscape,  of  barbaric  ways,  of  traits  in  his  com- 
panions. There  is  a  pervading  tone  of  high  spirits  and  abounding 
vitality.  At  first  looked  at  a  little  askance,  as  an  American,  by  the 
other  correspondents,  he  soon  got  on  very  good  terms  with  them. 
'Their  mess,'  he  writes,  '  was  the  most  sociable  in  the  army,  as  well 
as  the  most  loveable  and  good-tempered' ;  and  he  names  the  London 
correspondents,  individually,  as  his  personal  friends.  Lord  Napier 
was  courteous,  and  gave  him  the  same  privileges  as  his  English  col- 

1  See  Stanley's  Coomassie  and  Magdala. 


230  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

leagues.  With  the  officers,  too,  he  got  on  well.  There  is  occasional 
humorous  mention  in  the  book,  and  more  fully  in  the  Journal,  of 
a  certain  captain  whose  tent  he  shared  for  a  while,  and  whom  he 
names  'Smelfungus,'  after  Sterne;  he  might  have  been  dubbed 
'Tartarin  de  Tarascon,'  for  he  was  a  braggadocio,  sportsman,  and 
warrior,  whose  romances  first  puzzled,  and  then  amused,  Stanley, 
until  he  learned  that  a  severe  wound,  and  a  sun-stroke,  had  pro- 
duced these  obscurations  in  a  sensible  and  gallant  fellow. 

As  a  correspondent  he  scored  a  marked  success,  for  which  he  had 
good  fortune,  as  well  as  his  own  pains,  to  thank.  On  his  way  out, 
he  had  made  private  arrangements  with  the  chief  of  the  telegraph 
office,  at  Suez,  about  transmitting  his  despatches.  '  My  telegrams,' 
he  notes  in  the  Journal,  'are  to  be  addressed  to  him,  and  he  will 
undertake  that  there  shall  be  no  delay  in  sending  them  to  London, 
for  which  services  I  am  to  pay  handsomely  if,  on  my  return,  I  hear 
that  there  had  been  no  delay.'  This  foresight  was  peculiarly  char- 
acteristic of  Stanley.  On  the  return  march,  he  could  not  get  per- 
mission to  send  an  advance  courier  with  his  despatches;  these 
had  to  go  in  the  same  bag  which  carried  the  official  and  the  other 
press  bulletins.  In  the  Red  Sea,  the  steamer  stuck  aground  for  four 
days;  and,  under  the  broiling  heat,  an  exchange  of  chaff  between 
a  colonel  and  captain  generated  wrath  and  a  prospective  duel; 
Stanley's  mediation  was  accepted ;  reconciliation,  champagne,  and 
—  Suez  at  last ;  but  only  to  face  five  days  cf  quarantine !  Stanley 
manages  to  get  a  long  despatch  ashore,  to  his  friend  in  the  telegraph 
office.  It  is  before  all  the  others,  and  is  hurried  off;  then  the  cable 
between  Alexandria  and  Malta  breaks,  and  for  weeks  not  another 
word  can  pass!  Stanley's  despatch  brings  to  London  the  only  news 
of  Theodore's  overthrow.  Surprise,  incredulity,  denunciations  of 
the  '  Herald  '  and  its  '  imposture,'  —  then  conviction,  and  accept- 
ance! Stanley  had  won  his  place  in  the  world's  front  rank  of  corre- 
spondents! He  notes  in  his  Journal,  'Alexandria,  June  28th,  1868. 
I  am  now  a  permanent  employee  of  the  "  Herald,"  and  must  keep  a 
sharp  look-out  that  my  second  "  coup  "  shall  be  as  much  of  a  success 
as  the  first.    I  wonder  where  I  shall  be  sent  to  next.' 

He  was  sent  to  examine  the  Suez  Canal,  which  he  found  giving 
promise  of  completion  within  a  year.  Then,  on  to  Crete,  to  describe 
the  insurrection;  and  here  he  found  no  startling  public  news,  but 
met  with  a  personal  experience  which  may  be  given  in  full. 

The  Island  of  Syra,  Greece,  August  20th,  1868.  Christo 
Evangelides  seems  desirous  of  cultivating  my  acquaintance. 
He  has  volunteered  to  be  my  conductor  through  Hermopolis. 
As  he  speaks  English,  and  is  a  genial  soul,  and  my  happiness 
is  to  investigate,  I  have  cordially  accepted  his  services.  He 
first  took  me  on  a  visit  of  call  to  Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howre,  of 
Boston,  and  then  to  the  Greek  seminary,  where  I  saw  some 


WEST  AND   EAST  231 

young  Greeks  with  features  not  unworthy  of  the  praise  com- 
monly ascribed  to  Greek  beauty.  On  the  way  to  the  Square, 
Evangelides,  observing  my  favourable  impressions,  took  ad- 
vantage of  my  frank  admiration  and  suggested  that  I  should 
marry  a  Greek  girl.  Up  to  this  moment  it  never  had  entered 
my  mind  that  it  must  be  some  day  my  fate  to  select  a  wife. 
Rapidly  my  mind  revolved  this  question.  To  marry  requires 
means,  larger  means  than  I  have.  My  twelve  hundred 
pounds  would  soon  be  spent;  and  on  four  hundred  pounds 
a  year,  and  that  depending  on  the  will  of  one  man,  it  would 
be  rash  to  venture  with  an  extravagant  woman.  Yet  the 
suggestion  was  delicious  from  other  points  of  view.  A  wife ! 
My  wife!  How  grand  the  proprietorship  of  a  fair  woman 
appeared !  To  be  loved  with  heart  and  soul  above  all  else,  for 
ever  united  in  thought  and  sympathy  with  a  fair  and  vir- 
tuous being,  whose  very  touch  gave  strength  and  courage  and 
confidence  !  Oh  dear !  how  my  warm  imagination  glows  at  the 
strange  idea ! 

Evangelides  meanwhile  observes  me,  and  cunningly  touches 
the  colours  of  my  lively  fancy,  becomes  eloquent  upon  Greek 
beauty,  the  virtues,  and  the  constant  affections  of  Greek 
women.  'But,  how  is  it  possible  for  a  wanderer  like  myself 
to  have  the  opportunity  of  meeting  such  a  creature  as  you 
describe?  I  have  no  resting-place,  and  no  home;  I  am  here 
to-day,  and  off  to-morrow.  It  is  not  likely  that  a  man  can 
become  so  infatuated  with  a  woman  at  a  glance,  or  that  she 
would  follow  a  stranger  to  the  church,  and  risk  her  happi- 
ness at  a  nod.  Why  will  you  distract  a  poor  fellow  with  your 
raptures  upon  the  joy  of  marriage?'  And  much  else,  with 
breathless  haste,  I  retorted. 

I  looked  at  Evangelides  and  saw  his  age  to  be  great,  beard 
white  as  snow,  though  his  face  was  unwrinkled.  Swiftly,  I 
tried  to  dive  beneath  that  fair  exterior,  and,  somehow,  I  com- 
pared him  to  a  Homer,  or  some  other  great  classic,  who  loved 
to  be  the  cicerone  of  youth,  and  took  no  note  of  his  own 
years.  The  charm  of  Hellas  fell  upon  me,  and  I  yielded  a 
patient  hearing  to  the  fervid  words,  and  all  discretion  fled, 
despite  inward  admonitions  to  beware  of  rashness. 

He  said  he  would  be  my  proxy,  and  would  choose  a  damsel 
worthy  of  every  praise  for  beauty  and  for  character.  Like  one 


232  HENRY   M.  STANLEY 

who  hoped  and  yet  doubted,  believed  and  yet  suspected, 
I  said :  '  Very  well,  if  you  can  show  me  such  a  girl  as  you 
describe,  I  will  use  my  best  judgement,  and  tell  you  later 
what  I  think  of  her.'   And  so  it  was  agreed. 

In  the  evening  I  walked  in  the  Square  with  Evangelides, 
who  suddenly  asked  me  what  I  thought  of  his  own  daughter, 
Calliope.  Though  sorely  tempted  to  laugh,  I  did  not,  but  said 
gravely  that  I  thought  she  was  too  old  for  me.  The  fact  is, 
Calliope  is  not  a  beauty;  and  though  she  is  only  nineteen 
according  to  her  father,  yet  she  is  not  one  to  thaw  my  reserve. 

August  2 1  st.  This  morning  Evangelides  proposed  his 
daughter  in  sober,  serious  earnest,  and  it  required,  in  order 
not  to  offend,  very  guarded  language  to  dispel  any  such 
strange  illusion.  Upon  my  soul,  this  is  getting  amusing  !  It  is 
scarcely  credible  that  a  father  would  be  so  indifferent  to  his 
daughter's  happiness  as  to  cast  her  upon  the  first  stranger  he 
meets.  What  is  there  in  me  that  urges  him  to  choose  me  for 
a  son-in-law?  Though  he  claims  to  be  a  rich  man,  I  do  not 
think  he  has  sufficient  hundreds  to  induce  me  to  entertain  the 
offer.  My  liberty  is  more  precious  than  any  conceivable 
amount  of  gold. 

August  22nd.  Rode  out  during  the  morning  into  the  coun- 
try beyond  Hermopolis,  and  crossed  the  mountains  to  the 
village  of  Analion.  I  was  delighted  with  all  I  saw,  the  evi- 
dences of  rural  industry,  the  manifest  signs  of  continuous  and 
thoughtful  care  of  property,  the  necessity  for  strictest  eco- 
nomy, and  unceasing  toil,  to  make  both  ends  meet,  the  beauty 
of  the  stainless  sky,  and  the  wide  view  of  dark  blue  sea,  which 
lay  before  me  on  every  side.  If  it  was  calculated  on  the  part 
of  Evangelides,  he  could  scarcely  have  done  anything  better 
than  propose  this  ride;  for  what  I  saw  during  the  ride,  by 
recalling  all  I  had  read  of  Greece,  made  Greek  things  particu- 
larly dear  to  me.  When  I  returned  to  the  town,  I  quite  under- 
stood Byron's  passion  for  Hellas. 

In  the  evening  Evangelides  walked  with  me  on  a  visit  to 
a  family  which  lived  on  another  side  of  the  Square.  We  were 
received  by  a  very  respectable  old  gentleman  in  sober  black, 
and  a  stout  lady  who,  in  appearance,  dress,  and  surroundings, 
showed  that  she  studied  comfort.  Evangelides  seemed  to  be 
on  good  terms  with  them,  and  they  all  bandied  small  change  of 


WEST  AND   EAST  233 

gossip  in  a  delightfully  frank  and  easy  manner.  Presently, 
into  the  sitting-room  glided  a  young  lady  who  came  as  near  as 
possible  to  the  realisation  of  the  ideal  which  my  fancy  had 
portrayed,  after  the  visions  of  marriage  had  been  excited  by 
Evangelides's  frolicsome  talk.  She,  after  a  formal  introduction, 
subsided  on  a  couch,  demure,  and  wrapped  in  virgin  modesty. 

Her  name  was  Virginia,  and  well  it  befitted  her.  Where  had 
I  seen  her  face,  or  whom  did  she  recall  ?  My  memory  fled  over 
scores  of  faces  and  pictures,  and  instantly  I  bethought  me  of 
the  Empress  Eugenie  when  she  was  the  Countess  Montijo. 
A  marvellous  likeness  in  profile  and  style !  She  is  about  six- 
teen, and,  if  she  can  speak  English,  who  knows?  Simultane- 
ously with  the  drift  of  my  thoughts,  Evangelides  in  the  easiest 
manner  led  the  conversation  with  the  seniors  to  marriage  of 
young  people.  He  was  so  pointed  that  I  became  uneasy.  My 
face  began  to  burn  as  I  felt  the  allusions  getting  personal. 
Jove !  what  a  direct  people  these  Greeks  are !  Not  a  particle 
of  reserve!  No  shilly-shallying,  or  beating  about  the  bush, 
but,  'I  say,  is  your  daughter  ripe  for  marriage?  If  so,  here  is 
a  fine  young  fellow  quite  ready.' 

Evangelides  was  nearly  as  plain  as  this.  Then  the  mother 
turned  to  me,  and  asked,  'Are  you  married?' 

'Heaven  forbid! '  said  I. 

'Why?'  she  said,  smiling,  with  proud  consciousness  of 
superior  knowledge  on  her  face.    '  Is  marriage  so  dreadful  ?  ' 

1 1  am  sure  I  don't  know,  but  I  have  not  thought  of  the 
subject.' 

I  Oh,  well,  I  hope  you  will  think  of  it  now ;  there  are  many 
fair  women  in  Greece;  and  Greek  women  make  the  best 
wives.' 

I I  am  quite  ready  to  believe  you,  and  if  I  met  a  young 
Greek  lady  who  thought  as  much  of  me  as  I  of  her,  I  might 
be  tempted  to  sacrifice  my  independence,'  I  answered,  more 
with  a  view  to  avoid  an  awkward  silence  than  with  a  desire  to 
keep  up  such  a  terribly  personal  conversation  with  strangers. 

1 1  am  sure,'  said  the  lady,  '  if  you  look  around,  you  will  find 
a  young  lady  after  your  heart.' 

I  bowed,  but  my  face  was  aflame. 

With  astonishing  effrontery  Evangelides  maintained  the 
pointed  conversation  until  I  saw  my  own  uneasiness  reflected 


234  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

in  Virginia's  face,  who  grew  alternately  crimson  and  pale. 
Both  colours  agreed  with  her,  and  I  pitied  her  distress,  and 
frowned  on  Evangelides,  who,  however,  was  incorrigible. 
Then  I  began  to  ask  myself,  was  this  really  Greek  custom,  or 
was  it  merely  a  frantic  zeal  on  Evangelides's  part  ?  Was  this 
the  Siren's  Isle,  wherein  the  famed  Ulysses  was  so  bewitched, 
or  was  the  atmosphere  of  the  Cyclades  fatal  to  bachelorhood  ? 
It  would  never  do  to  tell  in  detail  all  I  thought,  or  give  all  my 
self-questionings;  but,  ever  and  anon  in  my  speculations,  I 
stole  a  glance  at  Virginia's  face,  and  each  glance  started  other 
queries.  '  Is  this  to  be  a  farcical  adventure,  or  shall  it  be 
serious  ?  I  felt  that  only  the  mute  maiden  could  answer  such 
a  question.  Susceptible  and  romantic  I  know  I  am,  but  it 
requires  more  than  a  pretty  face  to  rouse  passionate  love. 

We  rose  to  go,  each  protesting  that  we  had  passed  a  pleasant 
evening.  The  lady  of  the  house  promises,  half-seriously,  to 
find  a  nice  wife  for  me.  '  Do,'  say  I,  '  and  I  will  be  eternally 
grateful.   Good-bye,  Miss  Virginia.' 

'Good-bye,'  she  says  timidly,  blushing  painfully. 

I  note  she  has  a  French  accent.  I  find  she  only  knows  a 
few  words  of  English,  but  she  is  fluent  in  French.  Here  then 
comes  another  obstacle.  I  could  make  no  love  in  French, 
without  exploding  at  my  own  ignorance  of  it.  But  there  is  no 
doubt  that,  so  far  as  beauty  goes,  Virginia  is  sufficient. 

September  9th.  After  a  short  absence,  I  have  returned. 
Evangelides  welcomed  me  effusively.  Passed  the  evening 
with  Virginia's  family.  There  were  two  brothers  of  Virginia's, 
fine  young  fellows,  present,  and  a  sister.  It  was  clear  that  my 
letter  had  been  a  subject  of  family  discussion,  for  every  eye 
was  marked  by  a  more  discerning  glance  than  would  have  been 
noticeable  otherwise.  Even  on  the  little  girl's  face  I  read,  '  I 
wonder  if  he  will  suit  me  as  a  brother-in-law.'  I  wished  I  could 
say  to  her,  '  So  far  as  you  and  Virginia  are  concerned,  I  do  not 
think  you  will  have  cause  for  regret.'  On  the  whole,  the  ordeal 
was  not  unsatisfactory.  I  was  conscious  that  Virginia  was 
favourable.  No  decision  has  been  arrived  at  yet,  but  I  feel  that 
where  there  are  so  many  heads  in  council,  father,  mother, 
brothers,  relatives,  friends,  and  Evangelides,  there  must  be  a 
deal  to  debate. 

September  10th.  A  friend  of  the  family  came  into  my  room 


WEST  AND   EAST  235 

this  afternoon,  and  was,  in  features,  voice,  and  conduct,  in- 
fectiously congratulatory.  He  told  me  that  the  marriage  was 
as  good  as  concluded,  that  I  had  only  to  name  the  day.  I 
gasped,  and  with  good  reason.  Here  was  an  event  which 
I  had  always  considered  as  sacred,  mysterious,  requiring  pe- 
culiar influences  and  circumstances  to  bring  within  range  of 
possibilities,  so  imminent,  that  it  depended  only  on  my  own 
wish.    Incredulous,  I  asked,  '  But  are  you  certain?  ' 

*  As  certain  as  I  am  alive.  I  have  only  just  left  them,  and 
came  expressly  to  enquire  your  wishes  in  the  matter/ 

Feeling  that  retreat  was  as  undesirable  as  it  would  be  of- 
fensive, I  replied,  'Then,  of  course,  as  my  business  admits 
of  no  delay,  I  should  like  the  marriage  to  take  place  next 
Sunday.' 

'All  right,'  he  said,  'next  Sunday  will  suit  us  perfectly.' 
And  he  left  me  quivering,  almost,  and  certainly  agitated. 

In  the  evening  I  visited  the  house.  I  was  allowed  to  see 
Virginia,  and,  in  a  short  time,  whatever  misgivings  I  may 
have  had  as  to  the  wisdom  of  my  act  were  banished  by  the 
touch  of  her  hand,  and  the  trust  visible  in  her  eyes.  There 
was  no  doubt  as  to  her  ultimate  responsiveness  to  the  height 
and  depth  of  love.  As  yet,  naturally,  there  was  no  love ;  but 
it  was  budding,  and,  if  allowed  to  expand,  there  would  be  no 
flaw  in  the  bloom.  If  I  know  myself  at  all,  I  think  that  my 
condition  was  much  the  same.  All  that  I  knew  of  her  I  ad- 
mired ;  and,  if  she  were  as  constant  in  goodness  as  she  was 
beautiful,  there  would  be  no  reason  to  regret  having  been  so 
precipitate. 

From  these  rapid  reflections  I  was  recalled  by  the  mother's 
remarks,  which  in  a  short  time  satisfied  me  that  the  marriage 
was  not  so  positively  determined  upon  as  I  had  been  led  to 
believe  that  afternoon.  As  she  went  on  I  perceived  it  was 
not  settled  at  all.  The  same  fear  I  had  felt,  of  committing  an 
imprudence,  was  swaying  her.  She  said  that  I  was  quite  a 
stranger,  of  whose  antecedents  everyone  in  Syra  was  quite 
ignorant,  and  she  was  therefore  obliged  to  ask  me  to  have 
patience  until  all  reasonable  assurances  had  been  given  that 
I  was  what  I  represented  myself  to  be. 

The  wisdom  of  this  act  I  could  not  but  applaud.  The 
mother  was  just  and  prudent,  and  my  respect  for  her  increased. 


236  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

Still,  it  was  tantalising.  My  decision  to  marry,  though  so 
quickly  arrived  at,  cost  me  a  struggle  and  some  grief.  My 
independence  I  valued  greatly.  Freedom  was  so  precious  to 
me.  To  be  able  to  wander  where  I  liked,  at  a  moment's 
thought,  with  only  a  portmanteau  to  look  after,  I  should  not 
have  bartered  for  a  fortune.  But  now,  after  looking  into  the 
face  of  such  a  sweet  girl  as  Virginia,  and  seeing  her  readiness 
to  be  my  companion,  for  better,  or  for  worse,  and  believing 
that  she  would  not  hinder  my  movements,  the  disagreeability 
of  being  wedded  had  been  removed,  and  I  had  been  brought 
to  look  upon  the  event  as  rather  desirable. 

'Well,  so  be  it,'  I  said;  'though  I  am  sorry,  and  perhaps 
you  may  be  sorry,  but  I  cannot  deny  that  you  are  just  and 
wise.' 

September  nth.  I  gave  a  dinner  to  the  family  at  the 
Hotel  d'Amerique.  Virginia  was  present,  lovelier  than  ever. 
It  is  well  that  I  go  away  shortly,  for  I  feel  that  she  is  a  trea- 
sure ;  and  my  admiration,  if  encouraged,  would  soon  be  con- 
verted into  love,  and  if  once  I  love,  I  am  lost !  However,  the 
possibility  of  losing  her  serves  to  restrain  me. 

September  12th.  Dined  with  Virginia's  family.  I  had  the 
honour  of  being  seated  near  her.  We  exchanged  regards,  but 
we  both  felt  more  than  we  spoke.  We  are  convinced  that  we 
could  be  happy  together,  if  it  is  our  destiny  to  be  united. 
Toasts  were  drunk,  etc.,  etc.  Afterwards,  Virginia  exhibited 
her  proficiency  on  the  piano,  and  sang  French  and  Greek 
sentimental  songs.  She  is  an  accomplished  musician,  beauti- 
ful and  amiable.   She  is  in  every  way  worthy. 

September  13th.  Left  Syra  for  Smyrna  by  the  '  Menzaleh.' 
Virginia  was  quite  affectionate,  and,  though  I  am  outwardly 
calm,  my  regrets  are  keener  at  parting  than  I  expected. 
However,  what  must  be,  must  be. 

September  26th.  Received  answer  from  London  that  I  am 
to  go  to  Barcelona,  via  Marseilles,  and  wire  for  instructions 
on  reaching  France. 

September  27th.  Wrote  a  letter  to  Evangelides  and  Vir- 
ginia's mother,  that  they  must  not  expect  my  return  to  Syra 
unless  they  all  came  to  a  positive  decision,  and  expressly 
invited  me,  as  it  would  be  an  obvious  inconvenience,  and 
likely  to  be  resented  at  headquarters. 


CHAPTER  XII 
A  ROVING  COMMISSION 

SO  the  fair  Greek  disappears;  and  Stanley,  free  and  heart- 
whole,  is  whirled  away  again  by  the  'Herald's'  swift  and 
changing  summons:  to  Athens,  to  witness  a  Royal  Baptism, 
and  describe  the  temples  and  ruins,  with  which  he  was  enraptured ; 
to  Smyrna,  Rhodes,  Beyrout,  and  Alexandria;  thence  to  Spain, 
where  great  events  seemed  impending.  But  he  has  barely  inter- 
viewed General  Prim,  when  he  is  ordered  to  London ;  there  the 
'Herald's'  agent,  Colonel  Finlay  Anderson,  gives  him  a  surprising 
commission. 

It  is  vaguely  reported  that  Dr.  Livingstone  is  on  his  way  home- 
ward from  Africa.  On  the  chance  of  meeting  him,  and  getting  the 
first  intelligence,  Stanley  is  to  go  to  Aden,  and  use  his  discretion 
as  to  going  to  Zanzibar.  It  looks  like  a  wild-goose  chase,  but  his, 
1  not  to  make  reply ;  his,  not  to  reason  why  ' ;  and  he  is  off  to  Aden, 
which  he  reaches  November  21,  1868.  Not  a  word  can  he  learn  of 
Livingstone.  He  writes  enquiries  to  Consul  Webb  at  Zanzibar,  and,  in 
the  wretched  and  sun-scorched  little  town,  sets  himself  to  wait ;  but 
not  in  idleness.  He  works  the  Magdala  campaign  into  book-form, 
designing  in  some  indefinite  future  to  publish  it.  (It  came  out  five 
years  later.)  Then  he  falls  upon  '  a  pile  of  good  books  which  my 
interesting  visit  to  Greece  and  Asia  Minor  induced  me  to  purchase  — 
Josephus,  Herodotus,  Plutarch,  Derby's  "  Iliad,"  Dryden's  "Virgil," 
some  few  select  classics  of  Bohn's  Library,  Wilkinson's  and  Lane's 
books  on  "  Egypt,"  hand-books  to  Greece,  the  Levant,  and  India, 
Kilpert's  maps  of  Asia  Minor,  etc.  Worse  heat,  worse  dust,  and  still 
no  wTord  of  Livingstone ! ' 

New  Year's  Day,  1869.  Many  people  have  greeted  me,  and 
expressed  their  wish  that  it  should  be  a  happy  one,  and  that  I 
should  see  many  more  such  days.  They  were  no  doubt  sin- 
cere, but  what  avail  their  wishes,  and  what  is  happiness? 
What  a  curious  custom  it  is,  to  take  this  day,  above  all  others, 
to  speak  of  happiness,  when  inwardly  each  must  think  in  his 
soul  that  it  admonishes  him  of  the  lapse  of  time,  and  what 
enormous  arrears  there  still  remain  to  make  up  the  sum  of  his 
happiness ! 

As  for  me,  I  know  not  what  I  lack  to  make  me  happy.   I 


238  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

have  health,  youth,  and  a  free  spirit;  but,  what  to-morrow 
may  bring  forth,  I  cannot  tell.  Therefore,  take  care  to  keep 
that  health.  The  knowledge  that  every  moment  makes  me 
older,  the  fluctuations  to  which  the  spirit  is  subject,  hour  by 
hour,  for  ever  remind  me  that  happiness  is  not  to  be  secured 
in  this  world,  except  for  brief  periods;  and,  for  a  houseless, 
friendless  fellow  like  myself,  those  periods  when  we  cast  off 
all  thought  which  tends  to  vex  the  mind  cannot,  by  any  pos- 
sibility, be  frequent.  But,  if  to  be  happy  is  to  be  without 
sorrow,  fear,  anxiety,  doubt,  I  have  been  happy;  and,  if  I 
could  find  an  island  in  mid-ocean,  remote  from  the  presence 
or  reach  of  man,  with  a  few  necessaries  sufficient  to  sustain 
life,  I  might  be  happy  yet;  for  then  I  could  forget  what  re- 
minds me  of  unhappiness,  and,  when  death  came,  I  should 
accept  it  as  a  long  sleep  and  rest. 

But,  as  this  wish  of  mine  cannot  be  gratified,  I  turn  to  what 
many  will  do  to-day ;  meditate ;  think  with  regret  of  all  the 
things  left  undone  that  ought  to  have  been  done;  of  words 
said  that  ought  not  to  have  been  uttered;  of  vile  thoughts 
that  stained  the  mind ;  and  resolve,  with  God's  help,  to  be 
better,  nobler,  purer.  May  Heaven  assist  all  who  wish  the 
same,  and  fill  their  hearts  with  goodness ! 

January  7th,  1869.  Six  days  of  this  New  Year  are  already 
gone,  and  one  of  the  resolutions  which  I  made  on  the  first  day 
I  have  been  compelled  to  break.  I  had  mentally  resolved  to 
smoke  no  more,  from  a  belief  that  it  was  a  vice,  and  that  it 
was  my  duty  to  suppress  it.  For  six  days  I  strove  against 
the  hankering,  though  the  desire  surged  up  strongly.  To-day 
I  have  yielded  to  it,  as  the  effort  to  suppress  it  absorbed 
too  much  of  my  time,  and  now  I  promise  myself  that  I  shall 
be  moderate,  in  order  to  soothe  the  resentment  of  my  mon- 
itor. 

Still  no  news  of  Livingstone,  and  scant  hope  of  any!  Stanley 
critically  examines  Aden ;  notes  its  unfortified  condition,  its  import- 
ance when  once  the  Suez  Canal  is  finished ;  and  sketches  its  future 
possibilities  as  a  great  distributing  centre,  and  the  case  of  a  cheap 
railway  into  the  heart  of  Arabia. 

After  ten  weeks  at  Aden,  February  1st,  'I  am  relieved,  at  last! ' 
And  so  he  turns  his  back  on  Livingstone,  who  is  still  deep  in  the  wilds 
of  Africa.  As  he  mixes  with  civilised  men  in  his  travels,  he  is  sometimes 
struck  by  their  triviality,  sometimes  by  their  malicious  gossip. 


A   ROVING   COMMISSION  239 

February  9th,  1869.  At  Alexandria.    Dined  with  G.  D.  and 

his  wife.     Among  the  guests  was  one  named  J .     This 

young  man  is  a  frequent  diner  here,  and  the  gossips  of  Alex- 
andria tell  strange  things.  Truly  the  English,  with  all  their 
Christianity,  and  morals,  and  good  taste,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing,  are  to  be  dreaded  for  their  propensity  to  gossip,  for  it 
is  always  malicious  and  vile.  Oh,  how  I  should  like  to  discover 
my  island,  and  be  free  of  them ! 

Apropos  of  this,  it  reminds  me  of  my  journey  to  Suez  last 
November.  Two  handsome  young  fellows,  perhaps  a  year  or 
so  younger  than  myself,  were  fellow-passengers  in  the  same 
coupe.  They  were  inexperienced  and  shy.  I  was  neither  the 
one,  nor,  with  the  pride  of  age,  was  I  the  other.  I  had  pro- 
vided myself  with  a  basket  of  oranges  and  a  capacious  cooler. 
They  had  not ;  and  when  we  came  abreast  of  the  dazzling 
sands,  and  to  the  warm,  smothering  mirage,  and  the  fine  sand 
came  flying  stinging  hot  against  the  face,  they  were  obliged 
to  unbutton  and  mop  their  faces,  and  they  looked  exceedingly 
uncomfortable.  Then  it  was  that  I  conquered  my  reserve, 
and  spoke,  and  offered  oranges,  water,  sandwiches,  etc. 

Their  shyness  vanished,  they  ate  and  laughed  and  enjoyed 
themselves,  and  I  with  them.  The  pipes  and  cigars  came  next, 
and,  being  entertainer,  as  it  were,  I  did  my  best  for  the  sake  of 
good  fellowship,  and  I  talked  of  Goshen,  Pithom,1  and  Ram- 
eses,  Moses'  Wells,  and  what  not.  We  came  at  last  to  Suez, 
and,  being  known  at  the  hotel,  I  was  at  once  served  with  a 
room.  While  I  was  washing,  I  heard  voices.  I  looked  up  ;  my 
room  was  separated  from  the  next  by  an  eight-foot  partition. 
In  the  next  room  were  my  young  friends  of  the  journey,  and 
they  were  speaking  of  me !  Old  is  the  saying  that  '  listen- 
ers hear  no  good  of  themselves ' ;  but,  had  I  been  a  leper  or  a 
pariah,  I  could  not  have  been  more  foully  and  slanderously 
abused. 

This  is  the  third  time  within  fourteen  months  that  I  have 
known  Englishmen,  who,  after  being  polite  to  my  face,  had 
slandered  me  behind  my  back.  Yes,  this  soulless  gossip  is  to 
be  dreaded  !  I  have  learned  that  if  they  entertain  me  with 
gossip  about  someone  else,  they  are  likely  enough  to  convey 
to  somebody  else  similar  tales  about  me. 

1  A  city  of  Egypt  mentioned  in  Exodus  i,  n,  along  with  Rameses. 


240  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

In  the  enforced  leisure  of  a  Mediterranean  trip  comes  a  piece  of 
self-observation. 

February  20th,  1869.  At  sea,  under  a  divine  heaven  !  There 
is  a  period  which  marks  the  transition  from  boy  to  man,  when 
the  boy  discards  his  errors  and  his  awkwardness,  and  puts 
on  the  man's  mask,  and  adopts  his  ways.  The  duration  of 
the  period  depends  upon  circumstances,  and  not  upon  any 
defined  time.  With  me,  it  lasted  some  months ;  and,  though  I 
feel  in  ideas  more  manly  than  when  I  left  the  States,  I  am  often 
reminded  that  I  am  still  a  boy  in  many  things.  In  impulse 
I  am  boy-like,  but  in  reflection  a  man ;  and  then  I  condemn 
the  boy-like  action,  and  make  a  new  resolve.  How  many  of 
these  resolutions  will  be  required  before  they  are  capable  of 
restraining,  not  only  the  impulse,  but  the  desire,  when  every 
action  will  be  the  outcome  of  deliberation?  I  am  still  a  boy 
when  I  obey  my  first  thought;  the  man  takes  that  thought 
and  views  it  from  many  sides  before  action.  I  have  not  come 
to  that  yet;  but  after  many  a  struggle  I  hope  to  succeed. 
'  Days  should  speak,  and  a  multitude  of  years  should  teach 
wisdom.' 

It  is  well  for  me  that  I  am  not  so  rich  as  the  young  man  I  met 
at  Cairo  who  has  money  enough  to  indulge  every7  caprice.  I 
thank  Heaven  for  it,  for  if  he  be  half  as  hot-blooded  and  im- 
pulsive as  I  am,  surely  his  life  will  be  short ;  but  necessity  has 
ordained  that  my  strength  and  youth  should  be  directed  by 
others,  and  in  a  different  sphere ;  and  the  more  tasks  I  receive, 
the  happier  is  my  life.  I  want  work,  close,  absorbing,  and  con- 
genial work,  only  so  that  there  will  be  no  time  for  regrets,  and 
vain  desires,  and  morbid  thoughts.  In  the  interval,  books 
come  handy.  I  have  picked  up  Helvetius  and  Zimmerman,  in 
Alexandria,  and,  though  there  is  much  wisdom  in  them,  they 
are  ill-suited  to  young  men  with  a  craze  for  action. 

And  now  he  is  back  at  headquarters  in  London,  and  gets  his 
orders  for  Spain ;  and  there  he  spends  six  months,  March  to  Septem- 
ber, 1869,  describing  various  scenes  of  the  revolution,  and  the  gen- 
eral aspect  of  the  country,  in  a  graphic  record.  These  letters  are 
among  the  best  of  his  descriptive  writings.  The  Spanish  scenery 
and  people;  the  stirring  events;  the  barricades  and  street-fighting; 
the  leaders  and  the  typical  characters ;  the  large  issues  at  stake  — 
all  make  a  great  and  varied  theme. 


A   ROVING  COMMISSION  241 

On  arriving  in  Spain,  Stanley  commenced  studying  Spanish, 
with  such  success,  that,  by  June,  he  was  able  to  make  a  speech  in 
Spanish,  and  became  occasional  correspondent  to  a  Spanish  news- 
paper. 

The  insurrection  of  September,  1868,  which  drove  Isabella  from 
the  Throne,  led  to  a  provisional  Government  under  a  Regency, 
General  Prim  acting  as  Minister  of  War. 

On  June  15,  1869,  Stanley  was  present  in  the  Plaza  de  Los 
Cortes  when  the  Constitution  was  read  to  twenty  thousand  people, 
who  roared  their  'vivas.' 

Stanley  was  in  the  prime  of  his  powers,  and  these  powers  were 
not,  as  afterwards  in  Africa,  taxed  by  heavy  responsibilities,  and 
ceaseless  executive  work,  but  given  solely  to  a  faithful  and  vivid 
chronicle  of  what  he  saw.  '  I  went  to  Spain,'  he  wrote,  '  the  young 
man  going  to  take  possession  of  the  boy's  heritage,  those  dear  dreams 
of  wild  romance,  stolen  from  school-hours.' 

When  a  Carlist  rising  threatened,  hundreds  of  miles  away,  Stan- 
ley immediately  hastened  off  to  the  scene.  On  one  occasion,  he  hur- 
ried from  Madrid  in  search  of  the  rebellious  Carlists,  who  were  said 
to  have  risen  at  Santa  Cruz  de  Campescu.  '  As  soon  as  I  reached  the 
old  town  of  Vittoria,  I  took  my  seat  in  the  diligence  for  Santa  Cruz 
de  Campescu ;  our  road  lay  westward  towards  the  Atlantic  through 
the  valley  of  Zadora.  If  you  have  read  Napier's  "  Battles  of  the 
Peninsula,"  you  can  well  imagine  how  interesting  each  spot,  each 
foot  of  ground,  was  to  me.  This  valley  was  a  battle-field,  where  the 
armed  legions  of  Portugal,  Spain,  and  England,  matched  themselves 
against  Joseph  Buonaparte's  French  Army.' 

At  Santa  Cruz,  Stanley  found  the  insurrectionists  had  fled  to  the 
mountains,  leaving  forty  prisoners;  he  returned  to  Madrid,  to  join 
General  Sickles  and  his  suite,  on  a  visit  to  the  Palace  of  La  Granja, 
called  the  '  Cloud  Palace  of  the  King  of  Spain.' 

He  hears  in  Madrid,  one  evening,  that  several  battalions  and  regi- 
ments had  been  despatched  towards  Saragossa.  '  Naturally  I  wanted 
to  know  what  was  going  on  there.  What  did  the  departure  of  all  these 
troops  to  Saragossa  mean?  So  one  hour  later,  at  8.30  P.  If.,  I  took 
the  train,  and  arrived  at  Saragossa  the  next  morning  at  6  A.  M.' 

And  here  Stanley  witnessed  a  rising  of  the  people,  'proud  and 
passionate,  the  Berber  and  Moorish  blood  coursing  through  their 
veins.'  They  resisted  the  order  to  give  up  Arms.  '  Then,  with  their 
bayonets,  they  prise  up  the  granite  blocks,  and,  with  the  swiftness 
of  magic,  erect  a  barricade,  formidable,  wide,  a  granite  and  cobble- 
stone fortification,  breast-high.  One,  two,  three,  four,  and  five,  aye, 
ten  barricades  are  thrown  up,  almost  as  fast  as  tongue  can  count 
them.  '  My  eye,'  says  Stanley,  '  finds  enough  to  note ;  impossible  to 
note  the  whole,  for  there  are  a  hundred  things  and  a  thousand  things 
taking  place.  Carts  are  thrown  on  the  summit  of  the  barricades; 
cabs  caught  unawares  are  launched  on  high,  sofas  and  bureaux  and 
the  strangest  kind  of  obstructions  are  piled  above  all.' 


242  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

Stanley  himself  was  on  a  balcony,  not  within  the  barricade,  but 
half  a  block  outside.  He  saw  a  battery  of  mounted  trained  Artillery 
halt  five  hundred  yards  from  where  he  stood.  He  watched  them 
dismount  the  guns  and  prepare  for  action ;  and  was  present  at  the 
bursting  and  rending  of  shells  and  the  ceaseless  firing  of  musketry 
from  the  barricades. 

4  As  the  bullets  flattened  themselves  with  a  dull  thud  against  the 
balcony  where  I  stood,  I  sought  the  shelter  of  the  roof,  and  behind 
a  friendly  cornice,  I  observed  the  desperate  fighting.^ 

Though  the  firing  had  been  incessant  for  an  hour,  little  damage 
had  been  done  to  the  barricade.  The  soldiers,  advancing  at  short 
range,  were  shot  down ;  again  the  Artillery  thundered,  and,  when  the 
smoke  dispersed,  Stanley  saw  the  soldiers  had  approached  nearer. 
'The  scene  was  one  of  desperation  against  courage  allied  with  a 
certain  cold  enthusiasm ;  as  fast  as  one  soldier  fell,  another  took  his 
place.  I  witnessed  personal  instances  of  ferocity  and  courage  which 
made  me  hold  my  breath.  To  me  —  who  was,  I  really  believe,  the 
sole  disinterested  witness  of  that  terrible  battle  —  they  appeared 
like  characters  suddenly  called  out  to  perform  in  some  awful  tra- 
gedy ;  and,  so  fascinated  was  I  by  the  strange  and  dreadful  specta- 
cle, I  could  not  look  away.' 

Night  fell,  and  the  bugles  sounded  retreat ;  the  soldiers  had  lost 
heart  after  three  hours'  persistent  fighting,  with  nothing  gained. 
The  dead  lay  piled  at  the  barricades.  Stanley  remained  on  the  roof 
until  he  was  chilled  and  exhausted;  he  had  been  awake  thirty- 
nine  hours.  '  I  retired  for  a  couple  of  hours'  rest,  completely  fatigued, 
yet  with  the  determination  to  be  up  before  daylight ;  and,  by  five 
in  the  morning,  I  was  at  my  post  of  observation  on  the  roof/ 

Stanley  graphically  described  the  scene  behind  the  barricade, 
before  the  battle  recommenced.  Fresh  troops  now  arrived,  former 
failure  was  to  be  avenged.  Again  they  hurl  themselves  on  the  bar- 
ricades ;  '  but  they  are  thrust  back  by  protruding  bayonets,  they  are 
beaten  down  by  clubbed  muskets,  they  are  laid  low  by  hundreds 
of  deadly  bullets,  which  are  poured  on  them;  but,  with  fearless 
audacity,  the  Regulars  climb  over  their  own  dead  and  wounded,  and 
throw  themselves  over  the  barricades  into  the  smoke  of  battle,  to  be 
hewed  to  death  for  their  temerity.' 

This  completed  the  fourth  defeat  the  Government  troops  experi- 
enced, and  in  the  greatest  disorder  they  ran  towards  the  Corso; 
while  the  '  Vivas  '  to  the  Republic  were  deafening.  *  The  Artillery 
re-open  fire  with  grape,  shell,  and  solid  shot,  and  once  more  the 
old  city  of  Saragossa  quivers  to  its  foundations.  Another  battalion 
has  been  added,  and  nearly  six  hundred  men  are  found  before  the 
breast-works.' 

The  rear  ranks  were  impelled  electrically  forward,  and  bodily 
heaved  over  the  front  ranks,  quite  into  the  barricades;  others 
crowded  on,  a  multitude  bounded  over,  as  if  swept  on  by  a  hurri- 
cane, and  the  first  barricade  was  taken,  the  insurgents  threw  down 


A  ROVING  COMMISSION  243 

their  arms,  fell  down  on  their  knees,  and  cried  for  '  quarter.'  Thus 
was  Saragossa  quelled  and  a  thousand  prisoners  taken.  '  The  valour 
and  heroism  of  the  insurgents,  will,  I  fancy,  have  been  chronicled 
solely  by  me,  because  the  Government  won  the  day,  as  they  were 
bound  to  do.' 

Stanley  now  hastened  to  Valencia,  '  from  whence  came  reports  of 
fierce  cannonading ;  it  was  not  in  my  nature  to  sit  with  folded  arms, 
and  let  an  important  event,  like  that,  pass  without  personal  investi- 
gation.' 

He  was  told  he  could  not  go,  the  trains  did  not  run,  miles  of  rail- 
way had  been  destroyed.  '  Can  I  telegraph  ?  —  No  —  Why  ?  —  Xo 
telegrams  are  allowed  to  pass  by  order  of  the  Minister  of  War.  — 
Heigh-ho !  to  Alicante,  then !  —  Thence  by  sea  to  Valencia.  I  '11  cir- 
cumnavigate Spain !  but  I  shall  get  to  Valencia !  I  exclude  all  words 
like  "fail,"  "can't,"  from  my  vocabulary.' 

Stanley  had  great  difficulty,  and  many  adventures,  before  he  got, 
by  sea,  into  Valencia,  and  found  himself  amid  the  roar  of  guns  and 
the  whiz  of  bullets. 

He  wandered  from  street  to  street,  always  confronted  by  soldiers 
with  fixed  bayonets,  until,  at  last,  he  saw  a  chance  of  getting  into  an 
hotel ;  but  he  had  to  run  the  gauntlet  of  twenty  feet  of  murderous 
firing.  Officers  remonstrated  against  the  folly.  '  But  twenty  feet ! 
Count  three  and  jump!  I  jumped,  took  one  peep  at  the  barricade 
in  my  mid-air  flight,  and  was  in  the  hotel  portico,  safe,  with  a  chorus 
of  "bravos"  in  my  rear,  and  a  welcome  in  front.' 

But  how  can  I  give  samples  of  Stanley's  vivid  word-painting;  it 
is  like  snipping  off  a  corner  of  a  great  historical  picture.  The  fore- 
going passages,  however,  will  suffice  to  show  how  Stanley's  whole 
being  throbbed  with  energy,  and  with  the  desire  to  excel. 

Sometimes  he  rides  all  night,  in  order  to  reach  betimes  a  remote 
place,  where  fighting  is  reported ;  he  watches  the  stirring  scenes  all 
day,  and  reports  his  observations  before  taking  rest. 

Extracts  from  one  or  two  private  letters  are  given  here.  One  was 
written  to  a  friend  who  pressed  him  to  take  a  holiday. 

Madrid,  June  27,  1869. 

You  know  my  peculiar  position,  you  know  who,  what,  and 
where  I  am ;  you  know  that  I  am  not  master  of  my  own 
actions,  that  I  am  at  the  beck  and  call  of  a  chief  whose  will 
is  imperious  law.  The  slightest  inattention  to  business,  the 
slightest  forgetfulness  of  duty,  the  slightest  laggardness,  is 
punished  severely;  that  is,  you  are  sent  about  your  business. 
But  I  do  not  mean  to  be  sent  about  my  business.  I  do  not 
mean  to  be  discharged  from  my  position.  I  mean  by  atten- 
tion to  my  business,  by  self-denial,  by  indefatigable  energy, 


244  HEXRY   M.   STANLEY 

to  become,  by  this  very  business,  my  own  master,  and  that 
of  others.  Hitherto,  so  well  have  I  performed  my  duty,  sur- 
passing all  my  contemporaries,  that  the  greatest  confidence 
is  placed  in  me. 

I  have  carte  blanche  at  the  bankers' :  I  can  go  to  any  part  of 
Spain  I  please,  that  I  think  best :  I  can  employ  a  man  in  my 
absence.  This  I  have  done  in  the  short  space  of  eighteen 
months,  when  others  have  1.  shed  on  at  their  business  for 

fifteen  years,  and  got  no  higher  than  the  step  where  they 
entered  upon  duty*.  How  have  I  done  this?  By  intense  ap- 
plication to  duty,  by  self-denial,  which  means  I  have  denied 
myself  all  pi  that  I  might  do  my  duty*  thoroughly, 

and  exceed  it.  Such  has  been  my  ambition.  I  am  Fulfilling  it. 
Pleasure  cannot  blind  me.  it  cannot  lead  me  astray  from  the 
path  I  have  chalked  out.  I  am  so  much  my  own  master,  that 
I  am  master  over  my  :wr.  :  assigns.  It  is  also  my  interest  to 
do  my  duty  well.  It  is  my  interest  not  to  throw  up  my  posi- 
tion. My  whole  life  hangs  upon  it  —  my  future  would  be 
almost  blank,  if  I  threw  up  my  place.  You  do  not  —  cannot 
suppose  that  I  have  accepted  this  position  merely  for  money. 
I  can  make  plenty*  of  money  anywhere  —  it  is  that  my  future 
promotion  to  distinction  hangs  upon  it.  Even  now,  if  I  ap- 
plied for  it.  I  could  get  a  consulship,  but  I  ci:  n:t  wan:  a 
consulship  —  I  look  further  up.  beyond  a  consulship. 

My  whole  future  is  risked.  Stern  duty  commands  me  to 
stay.  It  is  only  by  railway  celerity*  that  I  can  live.  A*, 
h  m  -  rk,  my  conscience  accuses  me  of  :  renting  duty,  of 
wasting  time,  of  forgetting  my  God.  I  cannot  help  that  feel- 
ing. It  makes  me  feel  as  though  the  world  were  sliding  from 
under  my  feet.  Even  if  I  had  a  month's  holiday.  I  could  not 
take  it:  I  would  be  restless,  dissatisfied,  gloomy,  morose.  To 
the with  a  vacation  !    I  don't  want  it. 

I  have  nothing  to  fall  back  upon  but  energy,  and  much 
hopefulness.  But  so  long  as  my  life  lasts.  I  feel  myself  so  much 
master  of  my  own  future,  that  I  can  well  understand  Caesar's 
saying  to  the  sailors.  'Nay,  be  not  afraid,  for  you  carry 
Caesar  and  his  fortunes  ! '  I  could  say  the  same  :  *  My  body 
carries  Stanley  and  his  fortunes.'  With  God's  help,  I  shall 
succeed ! 


A   ROVING   COMMISSION  245 

A  telegram  called  him  to  Paris,  to  meet  Mr.  Bennett  in  person; 
and  there,  October  16,  1869,  he  received  a  commission  of  startling 
proportions.  He  was  to  search  for  Livingstone  in  earnest,  —  not  for 
an  interview,  but  to  discover,  and,  if  necessary,  extricate  him,  wher- 
ever he  might  be  in  the  heart  of  Africa.  But  this  was  to  be  only  the 
climax  of  a  series  of  preliminary  expeditions.  Briefly,  these  consisted 
of  a  report  of  the  opening  of  the  Suez  Canal ;  some  observations  of 
Upper  Egypt,  and  Baker's  expedition;  the  underground  explora- 
tions in  Jerusalem;  Syrian  politics;  Turkish  politics  at  Stamboul ; 
archaeological  explorations  in  the  Crimea ;  politics  and  progress  in 
the  Caucasus;  projects  of  Russia  in  that  region;  Trans-Caspian 
affairs ;  Persian  politics,  geography,  and  present  conditions ;  a  glance 
at  India;  and,  finally,  —  a  search  for  Livingstone  in  Equatorial 
Africa ! 

Into  this  many-branched  search  for  knowledge  Stanley  now  threw 
himself.  He  carried  out  the  whole  programme,  up  to  its  last  article, 
within  the  next  twelve-month,  with  as  much  thoroughness  as  cir- 
cumstances permitted  in  each  case.  The  record,  as  put  into  final 
shape  twentv-five  years  later,  makes  a  book  of  400  pages,  the  second 
volume  of '  Sly  Early  Travels  and  Adventures.'  It  is  impossible  even 
to  epitomise  briefly' here  the  crowded  and  stirring  narrative.  The 
observer  saw  the  brilliant  pageant  of  the  great  flotilla  moving  for  the 
first  time  in  history  from  the  Mediterranean  Sea,  through  the  Suez 
Canal,  to  the  Indian  Ocean. 

Stanley  was  present  at  the  ceremony  of  blessing  the  Suez  Canal. 
On  the  following  day,  the  17th  November,  1869,  he  was  to  see  'a 
new  route  to  commerce  opened.'  The  Empress  Eugenie,  the  Em- 
peror of  Austria,  the  Crown  Prince  of  Prussia,  and  many  notabilities 
had  arrived. 

'A  beautiful  morning  ushered  in  the  greatest  drama  ever  wit- 
nessed or  enacted  in  Egypt.  It  is  the  greatest  and  last,  so  far,  of 
all  the  magnificent  periods  which  Egypt  has  witnessed.' 

At  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  Empress's  yacht  led  the  pro- 
cession through  the  Canal,  and  Stanley  followed,  in  the  steamer 
1  Europe.' 

He  next  went  up  the  Nile,  to  L'pper  Egypt,  as  one  of  a  party  of 
seventy  invited  guests  of  the  Khedive :  '  twenty -three  days  of  most 
exquisite  pleasure,  unmarred  by  a  single  adverse  incident.' 

The  next  part  of  his  programme  was  to  visit  Jerusalem,  where 
he  saw  the  unearthing  of  her  antique  grandeurs,  sixty  feet  under- 
ground. 

Stanley  proceeded  thence  to  Constantinople,  where  he  wrote  a 
long  letter  for  the  'New  York  Herald,'  on  the  Crimea;  and  here  he 
met,  once  more,  his  kind  friend,  the  American  Minister,  Mr.  Joy 
Morris,  who  presented  him  with  a  beautiful  Winchester  rifle,  and 
gave  him  letters  of  introduction  to  General  IgnatiefT,  General  Stole- 
toff,  and  various  Governors  and  Ministers  in  Persia. 

Stanley  now  travelled  through  the  Caucasus,  where  he  found  un- 


246  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

expected  civilisation.  He  rated  highly  the  advantages  which  Rus- 
sia's much-censured  conquest  of  the  Caucasus  had  brought  in  its 
train :  warring  tribes  brought  to  peace,  feuds  and  mutual  slaughter 
stopped,  local  religions  and  customs  respected,  and  an  end  put  to 
barbarism  and  feudality,  '  which  terms  are  almost  synonymous,  as 
witness  the  mountain  towers  and  fortresses,  once  the  terror  of  the 
country,  now  silent  and  crumbling.' 

Tiflis  affords  as  much  amusement  and  comfort  as  any  second- 
rate  town  or  city  in  Europe.  From  his  Journal  are  here  given  one 
or  two  passages,  to  illustrate  how  Stanley  observed  and  judged  the 
individuals  of  his  own  race  and  civilisation. 

February  5th,  1870.  Reached  the  Dardanelles  at  noon. 
One  of  my  fellow- voyagers  is  the  Rev.  Dr.  Harman,  of  Mary- 
land, an  elderly  and  large  man,  who  is  a  marvel  of  theological 
erudition,  a  mixture  of  Jonathan  Edwrards  and  the  Vicar  of 
Wakefield.  Most  of  the  morning  we  had  passed  classic  ground, 
and,  as  he  is  a  Greek  scholar  of  some  repute,  his  delight  was 
so  infectious  that  we  soon  became  warm  friends.  He  also  has 
been  to  Jerusalem,  Damascus,  and  Ephesus,  and  many  other 
places  of  biblical  and  classical  interest;  and,  in  a  short  time, 
with  a  face  shining  with  enthusiasm,  he  communicated  to  me 
many  of  his  impressions  and  thoughts  upon  wrhat  he  had  seen, 
as  my  sympathy  was  so  evident.  St.  Paul  is  his  favourite ;  the 
Seven  Churches  of  Asia,  and  the  inwardness  of  the  Revela- 
tions, are  topics  dear  to  him ;  and,  perceiving  that  I  was  a 
good  listener,  the  dear  old  gentleman  simply  '  let  himself  go,* 
uttering  deep  and  weighty  things  with  a  warmth  that  was 
unexpected. 

His  exact  words  I  have  already  forgotten ;  but  the  picture 
that  he  made,  as  he  sat  clad  in  sober  black  on  his  deck-chair, 
the  skirts  of  his  frock-coat  touching  the  deck,  his  spectacled 
eyes  thoughtfully  fixed  on  the  distant  horizon,  while  his  lips 
expressed  the  learned  lore  he  had  gathered  from  reading  and 
reflection,  will  be  ineffaceable.  If  I  were  rich  enough,  this  is 
the  type  of  man  whom  I  should  choose  for  my  mentor,  until 
the  unfixedness  of  youth  had  become  set  in  a  firm  mould.  On 
two  points  only  was  he  inclined  to  be  severe.  His  Presby- 
terianism  could  not  endure  the  Pope ;  and,  had  he  the  power, 
he  would  like  to  drive  the  Padishah  and  his  Turks  far  awTay 
into  inner  Asia,  where  they  belonged.  Otherwise,  he  is  one  of 
the  largest-hearted  Christians  I  have  ever  met. 


A  ROVING   COMMISSION  247 

Many-sided  in  his  sensitiveness  to  the  attractions  and  charms 
of  life,  there  were  some  aspects  against  which  he  was  proof.  At 
Odessa  he  fell  in  with  highly  congenial  English  society,  and,  at 
the  close  of  his  visit,  he  touches  on  one  aspect  that  repelled,  and 
one  that  attracted  him ;  the  twofold  attitude  is  not  unrelated  to  the 
state  of  mind  the  final  sentence  portrays. 

March  6th.  The  Carnival  was  a  novel  sight  to  me.  It  is  the 
first  I  have  ever  seen,  and  I  thank  my  stars  that  it  is  not  my 
fate  to  see  many  more  such.  The  mad  jollity  and  abandon 
wherein  both  sexes  seemed  agreed  to  think  of  nothing  but  their 
youth  and  opportunities,  positively  abashed  me !  To  decline 
being  drawn  within  the  wmirl  of  dissipation,  and  to  discounte- 
nance fair  gauzy  nymphs  who  insidiously  tempt  one  to  relax 
austere  virtue,  is  not  easy ;  but  the  shame  of  it,  more  than  any 
morality,  prevented  me  from  availing  myself  of  the  licence. 

At  the  Cathedral  I  heard  the  most  glorious  vocal  music  it 
has  ever  been  my  lot  to  hear.  There  was  one  voice  —  a  priest's 
—  that  rang  like  a  clarion  through  the  building,  so  flawless  in 
its  rich  tones  that  ever}7  heart,  I  should  fancy,  was  filled  with 
admiration;  and  when  the  choir  joined  in  the  anthem,  and 
filled  the  entire  concave  with  their  burst  of  harmony,  and  the 
organ  rolled  its  streams  of  tremulous  sound  in  unison,  I  became 
weak  as  a  child,  with  pure  rapture  and  unstrung  nerve !  That 
half-hour  in  the  Cathedral  is  unforgettable.  Whether  it  is  due 
to  the  air  of  Odessa,  the  perfect  health  I  enjoyed,  the  warm 
hospitality  I  received,  or  what,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  for 
once  I  have  known  a  brief  period  of  ideal  pleasure,  unmarred 
by  a  single  hour  of  unhappiness. 

Stanley  now  travelled  along  the  Russian,  Persian,  and  Turkestan 
coasts,  observing  the  people  and  noting  manners,  customs,  and 
events.  Towards  the  end  of  May,  1870,  he  reached  Teheran;  his 
description  of  the  Palaces  and  Bazaars,  the  Shah  and  his  people, 
are  wonderful  reading.  From  Teheran  he  rode  to  Ispahan. 

My  friends  among  the  English  colony  at  Teheran  gave  me 
several  wise  admonitions,  among  which  were,  that  I  was  never 
to  travel  during  the  day  on  account  of  the  heat,  but  to  start 
just  at  sunset,  by  which  I  might  make  two  stations  before  I 
halted  ;  I  was  also  to  look  out  for  myself,  as  there  were  numer- 
ous brigands  on  the  road,  who  would  not  scruple  to  strip  me  of 
even-thing  I  possessed. 


248  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

I  followed  their  advice  for  the  first  few  stages ;  but,  as  the 
rocks  retain  the  heat,  I  think  the  discomfort  of  night-travel  is 
greater  than  that  of  day.  Besides,  the  drowsiness  was  over- 
powering, and  I  was  constantly  in  danger  of  falling  from 
my  horse.  The  landscape  had  no  interest;  the  mountains 
appeared  but  shapeless  masses,  and  the  plains  were  vague  and 
oppressively  silent.  I  reached  the  salt  desert  of  Persia,  after 
a  ride  over  country  which  steadily  became  more  sterile  and 
waterless. 

The  fervour  of  that  tract  was  intense.  My  thermometer 
indicated  1290  Fahr.  Yet  this  terrible  tract,  with  its  fervid 
glow  and  its  expanse  of  pale  yellow  sand  almost  at  white  heat, 
was  far  more  bearable  by  day  than  a  night  ride  through  it 
would  have  been  —  for,  though  I  could  distinguish  nothing 
but  a  quivering  vapour,  the  strange  forms  of  the  mirage  were 
more  agreeable  than  the  monotonous  darkness. 

Then  follows  a  graphic  picture  of  Ispahan,  where  he  spent  a  week, 
and  then  onwards,  ever  onwards,  riding  through  oven  heat. 

At  Kumishah,  I  invited  myself  to  pass  the  night  in  the  tele- 
graph station,  for  there  was  nobody  at  home. 

When  evening  came,  I  made  my  bed  on  the  house-top, 
whence  I  had  a  good  view  of  the  town  and  of  the  myriad  of 
mud  towers,  of  acres  of  tomb-stones,  and  lion  sphynxes. 
And  there  I  dropped  to  sleep  with  the  clear  heaven  for  my 
canopy. 

At  Yezdikhast  I  had  to  spend  the  day ;  there  were  no  horses, 
but,  at  4  A.  m.,  the  relay  arrived  and  away  I  sped,  to  the  ruins 
of  Pasargadae.  Inclining  a  little  towards  the  right,  I  came  to 
a  group  of  low  and  greyish  hills,  on  the  most  southward  of 
which  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  wThitish  stone  wall.  Riding  up 
to  it,  I  found  it  to  be  a  marble  platform,  or,  rather,  a  marble 
wall,  which  encased  the  hill. 

The  natives  call  it  Solomon's  Throne,  and  on  it  once  stood 
the  Castle  of  Pasargadae.  To  commemorate  the  overthrow 
of  the  Babylonian  Empire,  Cyrus  the  Great,  in  the  year 
557  B.C.,  caused  to  be  erected  on  it  a  fort,  or  castle,  contain- 
ing a  Holy  Place,  whither  he  went  to  worship,  and  where 
his  successors  were  wont  to  be  inaugurated  as  Kings  of 
Persia. 


A   ROVING   COMMISSION  249 

From  Pasargadae  Stanley  rides  to  Persepolis,  and  here  he  lingers 
amid  the  ruins,  for  he  loves  to  dream  of  and  reconstruct  the  mighty 
Past. 

I  slept  in  the  first  portal  of  Persepolis,  all  night.  The  only 
food  I  could  get  was  wafer  bread  and  plenty  of  milk. 

Early  the  next  morning,  July  1st,  Stanley  rode  away,  after  cutting 
his  name  deep  on  the  Temple.  Away,  away  to  Shiraz,  where  he 
visits  the  graves  of  Saadi,  Hafiz,  and  one  of  the  many  graves  given 
to  Bathsheba! 

At  last  Stanley  reaches  Bushire,  where  he  took  steamer  and  en- 
tered the  Persian  Gulf;  he  visits  Bunder- Abbas,  and  then  continues 
his  journey  to  Muscat,  Arabia;  thence  to  Kurrachi,  arriving  at 
Bombay,  on  August  1,  1870,  his  long  programme  carried  through, 
up  to  the  verge  of  its  last  supreme  undertaking,  the  search  for  Liv- 
ingstone. First,  he  brings  his  story  up  to  date,  for  the  'Herald,' 
writing  seventeen  long  letters  about  the  Caucasus  and  Persian  expe- 
riences; then  he  plunges  deep  into  books  on  African  Geography, 
'for  I  feel  very  ignorant  about  most  things  concerning  Africa.' 

And  here  on  the  verge  of  the  great  venture,  we  may  see  how  he 
reviewed  and  estimated  the  long  preparatory  stage,  reckoning  it 
not  as  a  twelve-month,  but  as  six  years,  when  he  looked  back  on  it, 
toward  the  end. 

As  ma}'  be  imagined,  these  six  years  formed  a  most  im- 
portant period  of  my  life ;  I  had  seen  about  fifteen  fair  battles 
with  the  military  service,  and  three  naval  bombardments. 
Twice  I  had  been  shipwrecked,  and  I  had  been  spectator  of 
mighty  events ;  I  had  seen  many  sovereign-monarchs,  princes, 
ministers,  and  generals;  I  had  explored  many  large  cities, 
and  rubbed  against  thousands  of  men  of  vast  nations ;  and, 
having  been  compelled  to  write  of  what  I  had  seen  in  a  daily 
paper,  it  can  be  understood  how  invaluable  such  a  career  and 
such  a  training,  with  its  compulsory  lessons,  was  to  me,  pre- 
paring me  for  the  great  work  which  awaited  me.  To  this 
training  I  owed  increasing  powers  of  observation,  and  judge- 
ment; the  long  railway  journeys  taught  me,  while  watching 
and  meditating  upon  the  characters  I  met,  how  to  observe 
most  keenly  and  guide  myself;  by  which  I  was  enabled,  I 
think,  to  achieve  a  certain  mastery  of  those  infirmities  which, 
I  was  only  too  conscious,  had  cropped  up  since  I  had  entered 
the  Army  [i.  e.,  during  the  Civil  War]. 


250  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

And  now,  at  last,  —  for  Africa  and  Livingstone !  Zanzibar  is  to  be 
his  starting-point;  there  is  no  direct  communication  from  Bombay; 
so  he  must  creep  and  zig-zag,  by  irregular  sailing-ship.  He  starts, 
October  12,  1870,  in  the  barque  'Polly,'  a  six  weeks'  voyage  to 
Mauritius.  Off  again,  in  the  brigantine  '  Romp ' ;  and,  in  seventeen 
days,  to  St.  Anne's  Island,  Seychelles  group.  Thence,  in  the  little 
brigantine  whaler,  '  Falcon,'  to  creep  along  for  nineteen  days  more. 

Still  at  sea,  light  breezes  every  day.  Oh !  how  I  suffer  from 
ennui !  Oh,  torment  of  an  impatient  soul !  What  is  the  use  of 
a  sailing-boat  in  the  tropics  ?  My  back  aches  with  pain,  my 
mind  becomes  old,  and  all  because  of  these  dispiriting  calms. 

December  31st,  1870.  Eighty  days  from  Bombay,  and 
Zanzibar,  at  last! 

But  to  find  what?  No  letters  from  Bennett,  nor  his  agent;  so, 
of  course,  no  money.  No  news  of  Livingstone  since  his  departure, 
years  before ;  and  of  him,  then,  this  cheerful  gossip :  — 

1 gave  me  a  very  bad  opinion  of  Livingstone ;  he  says  that  he 

is  hard  to  get  along  with,  is  cross  and  narrow-minded ;  that  Liv- 
ingstone ought  to  come  home,  and  allow  a  younger  man  to  take  his 
place;  that  he  takes  no  notes  nor  keeps  his  Journal  methodically; 
and  that  he  would  run  away,  if  he  heard  any  traveller  was  going 
to  him.' 

This  was  the  man,  to  find  whom  Stanley  is  to  plunge  into  an 
unknown  tropical  Continent ;  he,  who  in  all  his  travellings  has  had 
ei ther  a  beaten  road,  or  guides  who  knew  the  country ;  who  has  no 
experience  with  Africans,  nor  in  organising  and  leading  an  expedi- 
tion ;  who  can  find  funds  for  his  search  only  from  a  friendly  loan 
of  Captain  F.  R.  Webb,  and  who  is  thrown  on  his  own  resources, 
almost  as  if  he  were  entering  a  new  world !   But  —  forward ! 


CHAPTER  XIII 
THE  FINDING  OF  LIVINGSTONE 

IN  his  book,  '  How  I  Found  Livingstone,'  Stanley  has  told  that 
story  at  length.  What  here  follows  is  arranged  from  material 
hitherto  unpublished,  and  is  designed  to  give  the  main  thread 
of  events,  to  supply  some  fuller  illustration  of  his  intercourse  with 
Livingstone,  and  his  final  estimate  of  him,  and,  especially,  both  in 
this,  and  in  his  later  explorations,  to  show  from  his  private  Journal 
something  of  the  workings  of  his  own  heart  and  mind,  in  the  solitude 
of  Africa. 

Though  fifteen  months  had  elapsed  since  I  had  received  my 
commission,  no  news  of  Livingstone  had  been  heard  by  any 
mortal  at  Zanzibar.  According  to  one,  he  was  dead  ;  and,  ac- 
cording to  another,  he  was  lost ;  while  still  another  hazarded 
the  conviction  that  he  had  attached  himself  to  an  African 
princess,  and  had,  in  fact,  settled  down.  There  was  no  letter 
for  me  from  Mr.  Bennett,  confirming  his  verbal  order  to  go 
and  search  for  the  traveller ;  and  no  one  at  Zanzibar  was  pre- 
pared to  advance  thousands  of  dollars  to  one  whom  nobody 
knew ;  in  my  pocket  I  had  about  eighty  dollars  in  gold  left, 
after  my  fifteen  months'  journey! 

Many  people  since  have  professed  to  disbelieve  that  I  dis- 
covered the  lost  traveller  in  Africa !  Had  they  known  the 
circumstances  of  my  arrival  at  Zanzibar,  they  would  have  had 
greater  reason  for  their  unbelief  than  they  had.  To  me  it 
looked  for  a  time  as  though  it  would  be  an  impossibility  for 
me  even  to  put  foot  on  the  mainland,  though  it  wras  only 
twrenty-five  miles  off.  But,  thanks  to  Captain  Webb,  the 
American  consul,  I  succeeded  in  raising  a  sum  of  money  amply 
sufficient,  for  the  time  being,  for  my  purpose. 

The  '  sinews  of  wTar '  having  been  obtained,  the  formation  of 
the  expedition  was  proceeded  writh.  On  the  21st  of  March, 
1 87 1,  it  stood  a  compact  little  force  of  three  whites,  thirty-one 
armed  freemen  of  Zanzibar,  as  escort,  one  hundred  and  fifty- 
three  porters,  and  twenty-seven  pack-animals,  for  a  transport 
corps,  besides    two  riding-horses,  on    the  outskirts  of    the 


252  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

coast-town  of  Bagamoyo ;  equipped  with  every  needful  article 
for  a  long  journey  that  the  experience  of  many  Arabs  had 
suggested,  and  that  my  own  ideas  of  necessaries  for  comfort 
or  convenience,  in  illness  or  health,  had  provided.  Its  very 
composition  betrayed  its  character.  There  was  nothing  ag- 
gressive in  it.  Its  many  bales  of  cloth,  and  loads  of  beads  and 
wire,  with  its  assorted  packages  of  provisions  and  medicine, 
indicated  a  peaceful  caravan  about  to  penetrate  among  Afri- 
can tribes  accustomed  to  barter  and  chaffer;  while  its  few 
guns  showed  a  sufficient  defensive  power  against  bands  of 
native  banditti,  though  offensive  measures  were  utterly  out 
of  the  question. 

I  passed  my  apprenticeship  in  African  travel  while  travers- 
ing the  maritime  region  —  a  bitter  school  —  amid  rank 
jungles,  fetid  swamps,  and  fly-infested  grass-lands,  during 
which  I  encountered  nothing  that  appeared  to  favour  my 
journey.  My  pack  and  riding-animals  died,  my  porters  de- 
serted, sickness  of  a  very  grievous  nature  thinned  my  num- 
bers; but,  despite  the  severe  loss  I  sustained,  I  struggled 
through  my  troubles. 

Into  the  narrative  of  external  events  is  here  inserted  what  he  re- 
corded of  an  interior  experience  at  this  time. 

In  the  matter  of  religion,  I  doubt  whether  I  had  much 
improved  (during  the  preceding  years  of  trial  and  adventure). 
Had  this  stirring  life  amongst  exciting  events  continued,  it  is 
probable  that  I  should  have  drifted  further  away  from  the 
thoughts  of  religion. 

Years  of  indifference  and  excitement  have  an  unconscious 
hardening  power,  and  I  might  have  lapsed  altogether ;  but  my 
training  in  the  world  of  politics,  of  selfish  hustling,  of  fierce 
competition,  stopped  in  time ;  for,  on  commencing  the  work  of 
my  life,  my  first  journey  into  Africa,  I  came  face  to  face  with 
Nature,  and  Nature  was  the  means,  through  my  complete 
isolation,  of  recalling  me  to  what  I  had  lost  by  long  contact 
with  the  world. 

I  had  taken  with  me  my  Bible,  and  the  American  consul 
had  given  me,  to  pack  up  bottles  of  medicine  with,  a  great 
many  'New  York  Heralds,'  and  other  American  newspapers. 
Strange  connection !   But  yet  strangest  of  all  was  the  change 


THE   FINDING   OF   LIVINGSTONE  253 

wrought  in  me  by  the  reading  of  the  Bible  and  these  news- 
papers in  melancholy  Africa. 

My  sicknesses  were  frequent,  and,  during  my  first  attacks 
of  African  fever,  I  took  up  the  Bible  to  while  away  the  tedious, 
feverish  hours  in  bed.  Though  incapacitated  from  the  march, 
my  temperature  being  constantly  at  1050  Fahr.,  it  did  not 
prevent  me  from  reading,  when  not  light-headed.  I  read 
Job,  and  then  the  Psalms;  and  when  I  recovered  and  was 
once  more  in  marching  state,  I  occupied  my  mind  in  camp  in 
glancing  at  the  newspaper  intelligence ;  and  then,  somehow  or 
another,  my  views  towards  newspapers  were  entirely  recast; 
not  as  regards  my  own  profession,  which  I  still  esteemed  very 
highly,  perhaps  too  highly,  but  as  to  the  use  and  abuse  of 
newspapers. 

Solitude  taught  me  many  things,  and  showed  newspapers 
in  quite  a  new  light.  There  were  several  subjects  treated  in  a 
manner  that  wild  nature  seemed  to  scorn.  It  appeared  to  me 
that  the  reading  of  anything  in  the  newspapers,  except  that  for 
which  they  were  intended,  namely  news,  was  a  waste  of  time ; 
and  deteriorative  of  native  force,  and  worth,  and  personality. 
The  Bible,  however,  with  its  noble  and  simple  language,  I 
continued  to  read  with  a  higher  and  truer  understanding 
than  I  had  ever  before  conceived.  Its  powerful  verses  had  a 
different  meaning,  a  more  penetrative  influence,  in  the  silence 
of  the  wilds.  I  came  to  feel  a  strange  glow  while  absorbed 
in  its  pages,  and  a  charm  peculiarly  appropriate  to  the  deep 
melancholy  of  African  scenery. 

When  I  laid  down  the  book,  the  mind  commenced  to  feed 
upon  what  memory  suggested.  Then  rose  the  ghosts  of  by- 
gone yearnings,  haunting  every  cranny  of  the  brain  with 
numbers  of  baffled  hopes  and  unfulfilled  aspirations.  Here 
was  I,  only  a  poor  journalist,  with  no  friends,  and  yet  possessed 
by  a  feeling  of  power  to  achieve !  How  could  it  ever  be  ?  Then 
verses  of  Scripture  rang  iteratingly  through  my  mind  as  ap- 
plicable to  my  own  being,  sometimes  full  of  promise,  often  of 
solemn  warning. 

Alone  in  my  tent,  unseen  of  men,  my  mind  laboured  and 
worked  upon  itself,  and  nothing  was  so  soothing  and  sustain- 
ing as  when  I  remembered  the  long-neglected  comfort  and 
support  of  lonely  childhood  and  boyhood.    I  flung  myself  on 


254  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

my  knees,  and  poured  out  my  soul  utterly  in  secret  prayer  to 
Him  from  whom  I  had  been  so  long  estranged,  to  Him  who  had 
led  me  here  mysteriously  into  Africa,  there  to  reveal  Himself, 
and  His  will.  I  became  then  inspired  with  fresh  desire  to  serve 
Him  to  the  utmost,  that  same  desire  which  in  early  days  in 
New  Orleans  filled  me  each  morning,  and  sent  me  joyfully 
skipping  to  my  work. 

As  seen  in  my  loneliness,  there  was  this  difference  between 
the  Bible  and  the  newspapers.  The  one  reminded  me  that, 
apart  from  God,  my  life  was  but  a  bubble  of  air,  and  it  bade 
me  remember  my  Creator;  the  other  fostered  arrogance  and 
worldliness.  When  that  vast  upheaved  sky,  and  mighty  cir- 
cumference of  tree-clad  earth,  or  sere  downland,  marked  so 
emphatically  my  personal  littleness,  I  felt  often  so  subdued 
that  my  black  followers  might  have  discerned,  had  they  been 
capable  of  reflection,  that  Africa  was  changing  me. 

It  may  be  taken  for  granted  that  some  of  the  newspaper 
issues  which  I  took  up,  one  after  another,  when  examined 
under  this  new  light,  were  uncommonly  poor  specimens  of 
journalism.  Though  all  contained  some  facts  appertaining 
to  the  progress  of  the  world's  affairs,  in  which  every  intelli- 
gent man  ought  to  be  concerned,  these  were  so  few  and  meagre 
that  they  were  overwhelmed  by  the  vast  space  devoted  to 
stupid  personalities,  which  were  either  offensively  flattering 
or  carpingly  derogatory;  and  there  came  columns  of  crime 
records,  and  mere  gutter-matter. 

It  was  during  these  days  I  learned  that,  as  teeth  were  given 
to  chew  our  bread,  and  taste  to  direct  our  sense  of  its  quality, 
so  knowledge  and  experience  were  capable  of  directing  the 
judgement ;  and  from  that  period  to  this,  I  have  never  allowed 
another  to  govern  my  decisions  upon  the  character  of  any 
person,  or  to  pervert  my  own  ideas  as  to  the  rights  and  wrongs 
of  a  matter.  I  find,  if  one  wishes  to  be  other  than  a  mere 
number,  he  must  learn  to  exercise  his  own  discretion.  I  have 
practised  these  rules  ever  since,  and  I  remember  my  delight 
when  I  first  found  that  this  method  had  so  trained  and  ex- 
panded my  judgement  that  my  views  upon  things  affecting 
other  people,  or  affairs  in  which  I  had  no  personal  concern, 
wTere  in  harmony  with  those  expressed  by  the  best  leading 
journals. 


THE  FINDING  OF  LIVINGSTONE  255 

A  multitude  of  records  of  African  travel  have  been  read 
by  me  during  twenty-four  years ;  but  I  do  not  remember  to 
have  come  across  anything  which  would  reveal  the  inward 
transition,  in  the  traveller's  own  feelings,  from  those  which 
move  him  among  his  own  kindred,  to  those  he  feels  when 
he  discovers  himself  to  be  a  solitary  white  man  in  the  new 
world  of  savage  Africa,  and  all  the  pageantry  of  civilisation, 
its  blessings,  its  protection,  its  politics,  its  energy  and  power, 
—  all  have  become  a  mere  memory.  I  was  but  a  few  days  in 
the  wilderness,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Kingani  River,  when 
it  dawned  upon  me  with  a  most  sobering  effect.  The  sable 
native  regarded  me  with  as  much  curiosity  as  I  should  have 
regarded  a  stranger  from  Mars.  He  saw  that  I  was  outwardly 
human,  but  his  desire  to  know  whether  my  faculties  and 
usages  were  human  as  well  was  very  evident,  and  until  it  was 
gratified  by  the  putting  of  my  hand  into  his  and  speaking  to 
him,  his  doubt  was  manifest. 

My  mission  to  find  Livingstone  was  very  simple,  and  was  a 
clear  and  definite  aim.  All  I  had  to  do  was  to  free  my  mind 
from  all  else,  and  relieve  it  of  every  earthly  desire  but  the 
finding  of  the  man  whom  I  was  sent  to  seek.  To  think  of  self, 
friends,  banking-account,  life-insurance,  or  any  worldly  in- 
terest but  the  one  sole  purpose  of  reaching  the  spot  where 
Livingstone  might  happen  to  rest,  could  only  tend  to  weaken 
resolution.  Intense  application  to  my  task  assisted  me  to 
forget  all  I  had  left  behind,  and  all  that  might  lie  ahead  in  the 
future. 

In  some  ways,  it  produced  a  delightful  tranquillity  which 
was  foreign  to  me  while  in  Europe.  To  be  indifferent  to  the 
obituaries  the  papers  may  publish  to-morrow,  that  never  even 
a  thought  should  glance  across  the  mind  of  law-courts,  jails, 
tombstones ;  not  to  care  what  may  disturb  a  Parliament,  or  a 
Congress,  or  the  state  of  the  Funds,  or  the  nerves  excited  about 
earthquakes,  floods,  wars,  and  other  national  evils,  is  a  felicity 
few  educated  men  in  Britain  know ;  and  it  compensated  me  in  a 
great  measure  for  the  distress  from  heat,  meagreness  of  diet, 
malaria,  and  other  ills,  to  which  I  became  subject  soon  after 
entering  Africa. 

Every  day  added  something  to  my  experience.    I  saw  that 


256  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

exciting  adventures  could  not  happen  so  often  as  I  had  antici- 
pated, that  the  fevers  in  Africa  were  less  frequent  than  in 
some  parts  of  the  Mississippi  Valley,  that  game  was  not 
visible  on  every  acre,  and  that  the  ambushed  savage  was 
rare.  There  were  quite  as  many  bright  pictures  to  be  met 
with  as  there  were  dark.  Troubles  taught  patience,  and  with 
the  exercise  of  patience  came  greater  self-control  and  experi- 
ence. My  ideas  respecting  my  Zanzibari  and  Unyamwezi 
followers  were  modified  after  a  few  weeks'  observation  and 
trials  of  them.  Certain  vices  and  follies,  which  clung  to  their 
uneducated  natures,  were  the  source  of  great  trouble ;  though 
there  were  brave  virtues  in  most  of  them,  which  atoned  for 
much  that  appeared  incorrigible. 

Wellington  is  reported  to  have  said  that  he  never  knew 
a  good-tempered  man  in  India ;  and  Sydney  Smith  thought 
that  sweetness  of  temper  was  impossible  in  a  very  cold  or  a 
very  hot  climate.  With  such  authorities  it  is  somewhat  bold, 
perhaps,  to  disagree;  but  after  experiences  of  Livingstone, 
Pocock,  Swinburne,  Surgeon  Parke,  and  other  white  men,  one 
must  not  take  these  remarks  too  literally.  As  for  my  black 
followers,  no  quality  was  so  conspicuous  and  unvarying  as 
good-temper ;  and  I  think  that,  since  I  had  more  occasion  to 
praise  my  black  followers  than  blame  them,  even  I  must 
surely  take  credit  for  being  more  often  good-tempered  than 
bad;  and  besides,  I  felt  great  compassion  for  them.  How 
often  the  verse  in  the  Psalms  recurred  to  me :  '  Like  as  a 
father  pitieth  his  own  children ' ! 

It  was  on  my  first  expedition  that  I  felt  I  was  ripening. 
Hitherto,  my  faculties  had  been  too  busy  in  receiving  im- 
pressions; but,  like  the  young  corn  which  greedily  absorbs 
the  rain  and  cool  dews,  and,  on  approaching  maturity,  begins 
to  yellow  under  summer  suns,  so  I  began  to  feel  the  benefit  of 
the  myriad  impressions,  and  I  grew  to  govern  myself  with 
more  circumspection. 

On  the  8th  May,  1871,  we  began  to  ascend  the  Usagara 
range,  and,  in  eight  marches,  we  arrived  on  the  verge  of  the 
dry,  rolling,  and  mostly  wooded  plateau,  which  continues, 
almost  without  change,  for  nearly  six  hundred  miles  west- 
ward. We  soon  after  entered  Ugogo,  inhabited  by  a  bump- 
tious, full-chested,  square-shouldered  people,  who  exact  heavy 


THE  FINDING  OF  LIVINGSTONE  257 

tribute  from  all  caravans.  Nine  marches  took  us  through 
their  country ;  and,  when  we  finally  shook  the  dust  of  its  red 
soil  off  our  feet,  we  were  rich  in  the  experience  of  native  man- 
ners and  arrogance,  but  considerably  poorer  in  means. 

Beyond  Ugogo  undulated  the  Land  of  the  Moon,  or  Un- 
yamwezi,  inhabited  by  a  turbulent  and  combative  race,  who 
are  as  ready  to  work  for  those  who  can  afford  to  pay  as  they 
are  ready  to  fight  those  they  consider  unduly  aggressive. 
Towards  the  middle  of  this  land,  we  came  to  a  colony  of  Arab 
settlers  and  traders.  Some  of  these  had  built  excellent  and 
spacious  houses  of  sun-dried  brick,  and  cultivated  extensive 
gardens.  The  Arabs  located  here  were  great  travellers.  Every 
region  round  about  the  colony  had  been  diligently  searched 
by  them  for  ivory.  If  Livingstone  was  anywhere  within  reach, 
some  of  these  people  ought  surely  to  have  known.  But,  al- 
though I  questioned  eagerly  all  whom  I  became  acquainted 
with,  no  one  could  give  me  definite  information  of  the  missing 
man. 

I  was  preparing  to  leave  the  Arab  colony  in  Unyanyembe 
when  war  broke  out  between  the  settlers  and  a  native  chief, 
named  Mirambo,  and  a  series  of  sanguinary  contests  followed. 
In  the  hope  that,  by  adding  my  force  to  that  of  the  Arabs,  a 
route  west  might  be  opened,  I,  foolishly  enough,  joined  them. 
I  did  not  succeed  in  my  enterprise,  however,  and  a  disastrous 
retreat  followed.  The  country  became  more  and  more  dis- 
turbed ;  bandits  infested  every  road  leading  from  the  colony ; 
cruel  massacres,  destruction  of  villages,  raids  by  predatory 
Watuta,  were  daily  reported  to  me ;  until  it  seemed  to  me  that 
there  was  neither  means  for  advance  nor  retreat  left. 

As  my  expedition  had  become  thoroughly  disorganized 
during  my  flight  with  the  Arabs  from  the  fatal  campaign 
against  Mirambo,  I  turned  my  attention  to  form  another, 
which,  whether  I  should  continue  my  search  for  the  lost 
traveller,  or  abandon  it,  and  turn  my  face  homeward,  would 
be  equally  necessary ;  and,  as  during  such  an  unquiet  period 
it  would  be  a  task  requiring  much  time  and  patience,  I  mean- 
while consulted  my  charts,  and  the  best  informed  natives,  as 
to  the  possibility  of  evading  the  hostile  bands  of  Mirambo  by 
taking  a  circuitous  route  round  the  disturbed  territory. 

Finally,  on  the  20th  of  September,  187 1,  I  set  out  from  the 


258  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

Arab  settlement  at  Kwihara  to  resume  the  journey  so  long 
interrupted.  I  had  been  detained  three  months  at  Unyan- 
yembe  by  an  event  totally  unlooked-for  when  the  expedition 
left  the  sea.  Almost  every  day  of  this  interval  had  witnessed 
trouble.  Some  troubles  had  attained  the  magnitude  of  public 
and  private  calamities.  Many  Arab  friends  had  been  massa- 
cred ;  many  of  my  own  people  either  had  been  slain  in  battle 
or  had  perished  from  disease.  Over  forty  had  deserted.  One 
of  my  white  companions  was  dead ;  the  other  had  become  a 
mere  burden.  All  the  transport  animals  but  two  had  died; 
days  of  illness  from  fever  had  alternated  with  days  of  apparent 
good  health.  My  joys  had  been  few  indeed,  but  my  miseries 
many ;  yet  this  day,  the  third  expedition  that  I  had  organised, 
through  great  good  fortune  numbered  nearly  sixty  picked 
men,  almost  all  of  whom  were  well  armed,  and  loaded  with 
every  necessary  that  was  portable,  bound  to  demonstrate  if 
somewhere  in  the  wild  western  lands  the  lost  traveller  lived, 
or  was  dead. 

The  conclusion  I  had  arrived  at  was,  that,  though  Mirambo 
and  his  hordes  effectually  closed  the  usual  road  to  Lake  Tan- 
ganyika, a  flank  march  might  be  made,  sufficiently  distant 
from  the  disturbed  territory  and  sufficiently  long  to  enable  me 
to  strike  west,  and  make  another  attempt  to  reach  the  Arab 
colony  on  Lake  Tanganyika.  I  calculated  that  from  two  hun- 
dred to  three  hundred  miles  extra  marching  would  enable  me 
to  reach  Ujiji  safely. 

Agreeably  to  this  determination,  for  twenty-two  days  we 
travelled  in  a  south-westerly  direction,  during  which  I  esti- 
mated we  had  performed  a  journey  of  two  hundred  and  forty 
miles.  At  a  place  called  Mpokwa,  Mirambo's  capital  lying 
due  north  ten  days  distant,  I  turned  westward,  and  after 
thirty-five  miles,  gradually  turned  a  little  to  the  westward  of 
north.  At  the  105th  mile  of  this  northerly  journey  we  came  to 
the  ferry  of  the  Malagarazi  River,  Mirambo  being,  at  that 
point,  eight  days'  march  direct  east  of  us,  from  whence  I  took 
a  north-westerly  course,  straight  for  the  port  of  the  Arab  col- 
ony on  the  great  Lake.  With  the  exception  of  a  mutiny  among 
my  own  people,  which  was  soon  forcibly  crushed,  and  consider- 
able suffering  from  famine,  I  had  met  with  no  adventures  which 
detained  me,  or  interrupted  my  rapid  advance  on  the  Lake. 


THE   FINDING   OF   LIVINGSTONE  259 

At  the  river  just  mentioned,  however,  a  rumour  reached  me, 
by  a  native  caravan,  of  a  white  man  having  reached  Ujiji  from 
Manyuema,  a  country  situated  a  few  hundred  miles  west  of 
the  lake,  which  startled  us  all  greatly.  The  caravan  did  not 
stay  long.  The  ferriage  of  the  river  is  always  exciting.  The 
people  were  natives  of  West  Tanganyika.  The  evidence,  such 
as  it  was,  —  brief,  and  given  in  a  language  few  of  my  people 
could  understand,  —  was  conclusive  that  the  stranger  was 
elderly,  grey-bearded,  white,  and  that  he  was  a  man  wearing 
clothes  somewhat  of  the  pattern  of  those  I  wore ;  that  he  had 
been  at  Ujiji  before,  but  had  been  years  absent  in  the  western 
country;  and  that  he  had  only  arrived  either  the  same  day 
they  had  left  Ujiji  with  their  caravan,  or  the  day  before. 

To  my  mind,  startling  as  it  was  to  me,  it  appeared  that  he 
could  be  no  other  than  Livingstone.  True,  Sir  Samuel  Baker 
was  known  to  be  in  Central  Africa  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
Nile  lakes  —  but  he  was  not  grey-bearded ;  a  traveller  might 
have  arrived  from  the  West  Coast,  —  he  might  be  a  Portu- 
guese, a  German,  or  a  Frenchman,  —  but  then  none  of  these 
had  ever  been  heard  of  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Ujiji.  There- 
fore, as  fast  as  doubts  arose  as  to  his  personality,  arguments 
were  as  quickly  found  to  dissipate  them.  Quickened  by  the 
hope  that  was  inspired  in  my  mind  by  this  vague  rumour,  I 
crossed  the  Malagarazi  River,  and  soon  after  entered  the 
country  of  the  factious  and  warlike  Wahha. 

A  series  of  misfortunes  commenced  at  the  first  village  we 
came  to  in  Uhha.  I  was  summoned  to  halt,  and  to  pay  such  a 
tribute  as  would  have  beggared  me  had  I  yielded.  To  reduce 
it,  however,  was  a  severe  task  and  strain  on  my  patience.  I 
had  received  no  previous  warning  that  I  should  be  subjected 
to  such  extortionate  demands,  which  made  the  matter  worse. 
The  inevitable  can  always  be  endured,  if  due  notice  is  given ; 
but  the  suddenness  of  a  mishap  or  an  evil  rouses  the  combative 
instincts  in  man.  Before  paying,  or  even  submitting  to  the 
thought  of  payment,  my  power  of  resistance  was  carefully 
weighed,  but  I  became  inclined  to  moderation  upon  being 
assured  by  all  concerned  that  this  would  be  the  only  instance 
of  what  must  be  endured  unless  we  chose  to  fight.  After  long 
hours  of  haggling  over  the  amount,  I  paid  my  forfeit,  and  was 
permitted  to  proceed. 


260  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

The  next  day  I  was  again  halted,  and  summoned  to  pay. 
The  present  demand  was  for  two  bales  of  cloth.  This  led  to 
half-formed  resolutions  to  resist  to  the  death,  then  anxious 
conjectures  as  to  what  would  be  the  end  of  this  rapacity.  The 
manner  of  the  Wahha  was  confident  and  supercilious.  This 
could  only  arise  from  the  knowledge  that,  whether  their  de- 
mands were  agreeable  or  not  to  the  white  man,  the  refusal 
to  pay  could  but  result  in  gain  to  them.  After  hours  of  at- 
tempts to  reduce  the  sum  total,  I  submitted  to  pay  one  bale 
and  a  quarter.  Again  I  was  assured  this  would  be  the  last. 

The  next  day  I  rose  at  dawn  to  resume  the  march ;  but,  foui^ 
hours  later,  we  were  halted  again,  and  forfeited  another  half- 
bale,  notwithstanding  the  most  protracted  and  patient  hag- 
gling on  my  part.  And  for  the  third  time  I  was  assured  we 
were  safe  from  further  demands.  The  natives  and  my  own 
people  combined  to  comfort  me  with  this  assurance.  I  heard, 
however,  shortly  after,  that  Uhha  extended  for  two  long 
marches  yet,  further  west.  Knowing  this,  I  declined  to  believe 
them,  and  began  to  form  plans  to  escape  from  Uhha. 

I  purchased  four  days'  rations  as  a  provision  for  the  wilder- 
ness, and  at  midnight  I  roused  the  caravan.  Having  noise- 
lessly packed  the  goods,  the  people  silently  stole  away  from 
the  sleeping  village  in  small  groups,  and  the  guides  were  di- 
rected, as  soon  as  we  should  be  a  little  distance  off,  to  abandon 
the  road  and  march  to  the  southward  over  the  grassy  plain. 
After  eighteen  hours'  marching  through  an  unpeopled  wilder- 
ness, we  were  safe  beyond  Uhha  and  the  power  of  any  chief  to 
exact  tribute,  or  to  lay  down  the  arbitrary  law,  '  Fight,  or  pay.' 
A  small  stream  now  crossed  was  the  boundary  line  between 
hateful  Uhha  and  peaceful  Ukaranga. 

That  evening  we  slept  at  a  chief's  village  in  Ukaranga,  with 
only  one  more  march  of  six  hours,  it  was  said,  intervening 
between  us  and  the  Arab  settlement  of  Ujiji,  in  which  native 
rumour  located  an  old,  grey-bearded,  white  man,  who  had 
but  newly  arrived  from  a  distant  western  country.  It  was  now 
two  hundred  and  thirty-five  days  since  I  had  left  the  Indian 
Ocean,  and  fifty  days  since  I  had  departed  from  Unyanyembe. 

At  cock-crow  of  the  eventful  day,1  the  day  that  was  to  end 
all  doubt,  we  strengthened  ourselves  with  a  substantial  meal, 

1  Friday,  November  10,  1871. 


THE  FINDING  OF  LIVINGSTONE  261 

and,  as  the  sun  rose  in  the  east,  we  turned  our  backs  to  it,  and 
the  caravan  was  soon  in  full  swing  on  the  march.  We  were  in 
a  hilly  country,  thickly-wooded,  towering  trees  nodding  their 
heads  far  above,  tall  bush  filling  darkly  the  shade,  the  road 
winding  like  a  serpent,  narrow  and  sinuous,  the  hollows  all 
musical  with  the  murmur  of  living  waters  and  their  sibilant 
echoes,  the  air  cool  and  fragrant  with  the  smell  of  strange 
flowers  and  sweet  gums.  Then,  my  mind  lightened  with  pleas- 
ant presentiments,  and  conscience  complaisantly  approving 
what  I  had  done  hitherto,  you  can  imagine  the  vigour  of 
our  pace  in  that  cool  and  charming  twilight  of  the  forest 
shades ! 

About  eight  o'clock  we  were  climbing  the  side  of  a  steep  and 
wooded  hill,  and  we  presently  stood  on  the  very  crest  of  it, 
and  on  the  furthest  edge  looked  out  into  a  realm  of  light  — 
wherein  I  saw,  as  in  a  painted  picture,  a  vast  lake  in  the  dis- 
tance below,  with  its  face  luminous  as  a  mirror,  set  in  a  frame 
of  dimly-blue  mountains.  On  the  further  side  they  seemed  to 
be  of  appalling  height.  On  the  hither  side  they  rose  from  low 
hills  lining  the  shore,  in  advancing  lines,  separated  by  valleys, 
until  they  terminated  at  the  base  of  that  tall  mountain-brow 
whereon  I  stood,  looking  down  from  my  proud  height,  with 
glad  eyes  and  exultant  feelings,  upon  the  whole  prospect. 

On  our  admiring  people,  who  pressed  eagerly  forward  to 
gaze  upon  the  scene,  contentment  diffused  itself  immediately, 
inspiring  a  boisterous  good-humour ;  for  it  meant  a  crowning 
rest  from  their  daily  round  of  miles,  and  a  holiday  from  the 
bearing  of  burdens,  certainly  an  agreeable  change  from  the 
early  reveille,  and  hard  fare  of  the  road. 

With  thoughts  still  gladder,  if  possible,  than  ever,  the  cara- 
van was  urged  down  the  descent.  The  lake  grew  larger  into 
view,  and  smiled  a  broad  welcome  to  us,  until  we  lost  sight  of 
it  in  the  valley  below.  For  hours  I  strode  nervously  on,  tearing 
through  the  cane-brakes  of  the  valleys,  brushing  past  the 
bush  on  the  hill-slopes  and  crests,  flinging  gay  remarks  to  the 
wondering  villagers,  who  looked  on  the  almost  flying  column 
in  mute  surprise,  until  near  noon,  when,  having  crossed  the 
last  valley  and  climbed  up  to  the  summit  of  the  last  hill,  lo  i 
Lake  Tanganyika  was  distant  from  us  but  half  a  mile ! 

Before  such  a  scene  I  must  halt  once  more.  To  me,  a  lover 


262  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

of  the  sea,  its  rolling  waves,  its  surge  and  its  moan,  the  grand 
lake  recalls  my  long-forgotten  love !  I  look  enraptured  upon 
the  magnificent  expanse  of  fresh  water,  and  the  white-tipped 
billows  of  the  inland  sea.  I  see  the  sun  and  the  clear  wThite  sky 
reflected  a  million  million  times  upon  the  dancing  waves.  I 
hear  the  sounding  surge  on  the  pebbled  shore,  I  see  its  crispy 
edge  curling  over,  and  creeping  up  the  land,  to  return  again  to 
the  watery  hollows  below.  I  see  canoes,  far  away  from  the 
shore,  lazily  rocking  on  the  undulating  face  of  the  lake,  and  at 
once  the  sight  appeals  to  the  memories  of  my  men  who  had 
long  ago  handled  the  net  and  the  paddle.  Hard  by  the  lake 
shore,  embowered  in  palms,  on  this  hot  noon,  the  village  of 
Ujiji  broods  drowsily.  No  living  thing  can  be  seen  moving 
to  break  the  stilly  aspect  of  the  outer  lines  of  the  town  and 
its  deep  shades.  The  green-swarded  hill  on  wThich  I  stood 
descended  in  a  gentle  slope  to  the  town.  The  path  was  seen, 
of  an  ochreous-brown,  curving  down  the  face  of  the  hill  until 
it  entered  under  the  trees  into  the  town. 

I  rested  awhile,  breathless  from  my  exertions ;  and,  as  the 
stragglers  were  many,  I  halted  to  re-unite  and  re-form  for  an 
imposing  entry.  Meantime,  my  people  improved  their  per- 
sonal appearance;  they  clothed  themselves  in  clean  dresses, 
and  snowy  cloths  were  folded  round  their  heads.  When  the 
laggards  had  all  been  gathered,  the  guns  were  loaded  to  rouse 
up  the  sleeping  town.  It  is  an  immemorial  custom,  for  a  cara- 
van creeps  not  up  into  a  friendly  town  like  a  thief.  Our  braves 
knew  the  custom  well ;  they  therefore  volleyed  and  thundered 
their  salutes  as  they  went  marching  down  the  hill  slowly,  and 
with  much  self-contained  dignity. 

Presently,  there  is  a  tumultuous  stir  visible  on  the  outer  edge 
of  the  town.  Groups  of  men  in  white  dresses,  with  arms  in 
their  hands,  burst  from  the  shades,  and  seem  to  hesitate  a 
moment,  as  if  in  doubt ;  they  then  come  rushing  up  to  meet 
us,  pursued  by  hundreds  of  people,  who  shout  joyfully,  while 
yet  afar,  their  noisy  welcomes. 

The  foremost,  who  come  on  bounding  up,  cry  out :  '  Why,  we 
took  you  for  Mirambo  and  his  bandits,  when  we  heard  the 
booming  of  the  guns.  It  is  an  age  since  a  caravan  has  come  to 
Ujiji.  Which  way  did  you  come?  Ah!  you  have  got  a  white 
man  with  you!   Is  this  his  caravan?' 


THE   FINDING   OF   LIVINGSTONE  263 

Being  told  it  was  a  white  man's  caravan  by  the  guides  in 
front,  the  boisterous  multitude  pressed  up  to  me,  greeted  me 
with  salaams,  and  bowed  their  salutes.  Hundreds  of  them 
jostled  and  trod  on  one  another's  heels  as  they  each  strove  to 
catch  a  look  at  the  master  of  the  caravan ;  and  I  was  about 
asking  one  of  the  nearest  to  me  whether  it  was  true  that  there 
was  a  white  man  in  Ujiji,  who  was  just  come  from  the  coun- 
tries west  of  the  Lake,  when  a  tall  black  man,  in  long  white 
shirt,  burst  impulsively  through  the  crowd  on  my  right,  and 
bending  low,  said,  — 

1  Good-morning,  sir,'  in  clear,  intelligent  English. 

'Hello!'  I  said,  'who  in  the  mischief  are  you?' 

'  I  am  Susi,  sir,  the  servant  of  Dr.  Livingstone.' 

'  What !  is  Dr.  Livingstone  here  in  this  town  ?  ' 

'  Yes,  sir.' 

'But,  are  you  sure;  sure  that  it  is  Dr.  Livingstone?' 

'Why,  I  leave  him  just  now,  sir.' 

Before  I  could  express  my  wonder,  a  similarly-dressed  man 
elbowed  his  way  briskly  to  me,  and  said,  — 

'Good-morning,  sir.' 

'Are  you  also  a  servant  of  Dr.  Livingstone?'  I  asked. 

'Yes,  sir.' 

'  And  what  is  your  name  ? ' 

'  It  is  Chuma.' 

'  Oh !  the  friend  of  Wekotani,  from  the  Nassick  School  ? ' 

'Yes,  sir.' 

'  Well,  now  that  we  have  met,  one  of  you  had  better  run 
ahead,  and  tell  the  Doctor  of  my  coming.' 

The  same  idea  striking  Susi's  mind,  he  undertook  in  his 
impulsive  manner  to  inform  the  Doctor,  and  I  saw  him  racing 
headlong,  with  his  white  dress  streaming  behind  him  like  a 
wind-whipped  pennant. 

The  column  continued  on  its  way,  beset  on  either  flank  by 
a  vehemently-enthusiastic  and  noisily-rejoicing  mob,  which 
bawled  a  jangling  chorus  of  '  Yambos '  to  even7  mother's  son 
of  us,  and  maintained  an  inharmonious  orchestral  music  of 
drums  and  horns.  I  was  indebted  for  this  loud  ovation  to  the 
cheerful  relief  the  people  felt  that  we  were  not  Mirambo's 
bandits,  and  to  their  joy  at  the  happy  rupture  of  the  long 
silence  that  had  perforce  existed  between  the  two  trading 


264  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

colonies  of  Unyanyembe  and  Ujiji,  and  because  we  brought 
news  which  concerned  every  householder  and  freeman  of  this 
lake  port. 

After  a  few  minutes  we  came  to  a  halt.  The  guides  in  the 
van  had  reached  the  market-place,  which  was  the  central  point 
of  interest.  For  there  the  great  Arabs,  chiefs,  and  respecta- 
bilities of  Ujiji,  had  gathered  in  a  group  to  await  events; 
thither  also  they  had  brought  with  them  the  venerable  Euro- 
pean traveller  who  was  at  that  time  resting  among  them.  The 
caravan  pressed  up  to  them,  divided  itself  into  two  lines 
on  either  side  of  the  road,  and,  as  it  did  so,  disclosed  to  me 
the  prominent  figure  of  an  elderly  white  man  clad  in  a  red 
flannel  blouse,  grey  trousers,  and  a  blue  cloth,  gold-banded 
cap. 

Up  to  this  moment  my  mind  had  verged  upon  non-belief 
in  his  existence,  and  now  a  nagging  doubt  intruded  itself  into 
my  mind  that  this  white  man  could  not  be  the  object  of  my 
quest,  or  if  he  were,  he  would  somehow  contrive  to  disappear 
before  my  eyes  would  be  satisfied  with  a  view  of  him. 

Consequently,  though  the  expedition  was  organized  for  this 
supreme  moment,  and  every  movement  of  it  had  been  con- 
fidently ordered  with  the  view  of  discovering  him,  yet  when 
the  moment  of  discovery  came,  and  the  man  himself  stood 
revealed  before  me,  this  constantly  recurring  doubt  con- 
tributed not  a  little  to  make  me  unprepared  for  it.  '  It  may 
not  be  Livingstone  after  all,'  doubt  suggested.  If  this  is  he, 
what  shall  I  say  to  him?  My  imagination  had  not  taken 
this  question  into  consideration  before.  All  around  me  was 
the  immense  crowd,  hushed  and  expectant,  and  wondering 
how  the  scene  would  develop  itself. 

Under  all  these  circumstances  I  could  do  no  more  than 
exercise  some  restraint  and  reserve,  so  I  walked  up  to 
him,  and,  doffing  my  helmet,  bowed  and  said  in  an  inquiring 
tone, — 

1  Dr.  Livingstone,  I  presume  ? ' 

Smiling  cordially,  he  lifted  his  cap,  and  answered  briefly, 
1  Yes.' 

This  ending  all  scepticism  on  my  part,  my  face  betrayed 
the  earnestness  of  my  satisfaction  as  I  extended  my  hand 
and  added,  — 


THE  FINDING  OF  LIVINGSTONE  265 

1 1  thank  God,  Doctor,  that  I  have  been  permitted  to  see 
you.' ' 

In  the  warm  grasp  he  gave  my  hand,  and  the  heartiness  of 
his  voice,  I  felt  that  he  also  was  sincere  and  earnest  as  he 
replied,  — 

1 1  feel  most  thankful  that  I  am  here  to  welcome  you.' 

The  principal  Arabs  now  advanced,  and  I  was  presented 
by  the  Doctor  to  Sayed  bin  Majid,  a  relative  of  the  Prince 
of  Zanzibar;  to  Mahommed  bin  Sali,  the  Governor  of  Ujiji; 
to  Abed  bin  Suliman,  a  rich  merchant;  to  Mahommed  bin 
Gharib,  a  constant  good  friend ;  and  to  many  other  notable 
friends  and  neighbours. 

Then,  remarking  that  the  sun  was  very  hot,  the  Doctor  led 
the  way  to  the  verandah  of  his  house,  which  was  close  by  and 
fronted  the  market-place.   The  vast  crowd  moved  with  us. 

After  the  Arab  chiefs  had  been  told  the  latest  news  of  the 
war  of  their  friends  with  Mirambo,  with  salaams,  greetings, 
and  warm  hand-shakings,  and  comforting  words  to  their  old 
friend  David  (Livingstone),  they  retired  from  the  verandah, 
and  a  large  portion  of  the  crowd  followed  them. 

Then  Livingstone  caught  sight  of  my  people  still  standing 
in  the  hot  sunshine  by  their  packs,  and  extending  his  hand, 
said  to  me,  — 

'  I  am  afraid  I  have  been  very  remiss,  too.  Let  me  ask  you 
now  to  share  my  house  with  me.  It  is  not  a  very  fine  house, 
but  it  is  rain-proof  and  cool,  and  there  are  enough  spare 
rooms  to  lodge  you  and  your  goods.  Indeed,  one  room  is  far 
too  large  for  my  use.' 

I  expressed  my  gratification  at  his  kind  offer  in  suitable 
terms,  and  accordingly  gave  directions  to  the  chiefs  of  the 
caravan  about  the  storing  of  the  goods  and  the  purchase  of 
rations;  and  Livingstone  charged  his  three  servants,  Susi, 
Chuma,  and  Hamoyda,  to  assist  them.  Relieved  thus  happily 
and  comfortably  from  all  further  trouble  about  my  men,  I 
introduced  the  subject  of  breakfast,  and  asked  permission  of 
the  Doctor  to  give  a  few  directions  to  my  cook. 

The  Doctor  became  all  at  once  anxious  on  that  score.   Was 

1  In  his  book  Hcnv  I  Found  Livingstone,  Stanley  recognised  the  guiding  hand  of  an 
over-ruling  and  kindly  Providence  in  the  following  words :  — 

'Had  I  gone  direct  from  Paris  on  the  search,  I  might  have  lost  him;  had  I  been 
enabled  to  have  gone  direct  to  Ujiji  from  Unyanyembe,  I  might  have  lost  him.' 


266  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

my  cook  a  good  one  ?  Could  he  prepare  a  really  satisfactory 
breakfast  ?  If  not,  he  had  a  gem  of  a  female  cook  —  and  here 
he  laughed,  and  continued,  '  She  is  the  oddest,  most  eccentric 
woman  I  have  ever  seen.  She  is  quite  a  character,  but  I  must 
give  her  due  credit  for  her  skill  in  cooking.  She  is  exceedingly 
faithful,  clean,  and  deft  at  all  sorts  of  cooking  fit  for  a  tooth- 
less old  man  like  myself.  But,  perhaps,  the  two  combined 
would  be  still  better  able  to  satisfy  you  ? ' 

Halima,  a  stout,  buxom  woman  of  thirty,  was  brought  at 
once  to  our  presence,  grinning,  but  evidently  nervous  and  shy. 
She  was  not  uninteresting  by  any  means,  and  as  she  opened 
her  capacious  mouth,  two  complete  and  perfect  rows  of  teeth 
were  revealed. 

'Halima,'  began  Livingstone,  in  kind,  grave  tones,  'my 
young  brother  has  travelled  far,  and  is  hungry.  Do  you  think 
you  and  Ferajji,  his  cook,  can  manage  to  give  us  something 
nice  to  eat  ?  What  have  you  ? ' 

'  I  can  have  some  dampers,  and  kid  kabobs,  and  tea  or 
coffee  ready  immediately,  master,  if  you  like ;  and  by  sending 
to  the  market  for  something,  we  can  do  better.' 

'  Well,  Halima,  we  will  leave  it  to  you  and  Ferajji ;  only  do 
your  best,  for  this  is  a  great  day  for  us  all  in  Ujiji.' 

'Yes,  master.   Sure  to  do  that.' 

I  now  thought  of  Livingstone's  letters,  and  calling  Kaif- 
Halek,  the  bearer  of  them,  I  delivered  into  the  Doctor's  hands 
a  long-delayed  letter-bag  that  I  had  discovered  at  Unyan- 
yembe,  the  cover  of  which  was  dated  November  1st,  1870. 

A  gleam  of  joy  lighted  up  his  face,  but  he  made  no  remark, 
as  he  stepped  on  to  the  verandah  and  resumed  his  seat.  Rest- 
ing the  letter-bag  on  his  knees,  he  presently,  after  a  minute's 
abstraction  in  thought,  lifted  his  face  to  me  and  said,  '  Now 
sit  down  by  my  side,  and  tell  me  the  news.' 

'  But  what  about  your  letters,  Doctor  ?  You  will  find  the 
news,  I  dare  say,  in  them.  I  am  sure  you  must  be  impatient 
to  read  your  letters  after  such  a  long  silence.' 

'  Ah  ! '  he  replied,  with  a  sigh,  '  I  have  waited  years  for  letters ; 
and  the  lesson  of  patience  I  have  well  learned !  —  I  can  surely 
wait  a  few  hours  longer!  I  would  rather  hear  the  general 
news,  so  pray  tell  me  how  the  old  world  outside  of  Africa  is 
getting  along.' 


THE  FINDING  OF  LIVINGSTONE  267 

Consenting,  I  sat  down,  and  began  to  give  a  resume  of  the 
exciting  events  that  had  transpired  since  he  had  disappeared 
in  Africa,  in  March,  1866. 

When  I  had  ended  the  story  of  triumphs  and  reverses  which 
had  taken  place  between  1866  and  1871,  my  tent-boys  ad- 
vanced to  spread  a  crimson  table-cloth,  and  arrange  the 
dishes  and  smoking  platters  heaped  up  profusely  with  hot 
dampers,  white  rice,  maize  porridge,  kid  kabobs,  fricasseed 
chicken,  and  stewed  goat-meat.  There  were  also  a  number  of 
things  giving  variety  to  the  meal,  such  as  honey  from  Uka- 
wendi,  forest  plums,  and  wild-fruit  jam,  besides  sweet  milk 
and  clabber,  and  then  a  silver  tea-pot  full  of  'best  tea,'  and 
beautiful  china  cups  and  saucers  to  drink  it  from.  Before  we 
could  commence  this  already  magnificent  breakfast,  the  serv- 
ants of  Saved  bin  Majid,  Mohammed  bin  Sali,  and  Muini 
Kheri  brought  three  great  trays  loaded  with  cakes,  curries, 
hashes,  and  stewTs,  and  three  separate  hillocks  of  white  rice, 
and  we  looked  at  one  another  with  a  smile  of  wonder  at  this 
Ujiji  banquet. 

We  drew  near  to  it,  and  the  Doctor  uttered  the  grace :  '  For 
what  we  are  going  to  receive,  make  us,  O  Lord,  sincerely 
thankful.' 

I  need  not  linger  over  a  description  of  Livingstone.  All  this 
may  be  found  in  books,  in  mine  among  the  number ;  but  I  will 
note  some  other  discoveries  relating  to  him  which  I  made, 
which  may  not  be  found  in  books.  At  various  times  I  have 
remarked  that  the  question  most  frequently  given  to  me  has 
been :  '  Why  did  not  Livingstone  return  of  his  own  accord 
when  he  found  his  energies  waning,  age  creeping  on  him  and 
fettering  him  in  its  strong  bonds,  his  means  so  reduced  that 
he  was  unable  to  accomplish  anything,  even  if  youth  could 
have  been  restored  to  him  ? ' 

Briefly,  I  will  answer  that  his  return  to  home  and  kindred 
was  prevented  by  an  over-scrupulous  fidelity  to  a  promise  that 
he  had  made  to  his  friend  Sir  R.  Murchison  —  that  he  would 
set  the  matter  of  that  watershed  north  of  the  Tanganyika 
at  rest.  But,  strive  as  he  might,  misfortune  dogged  him; 
dauntlessly  he  urged  his  steps  forward  over  the  high  plateaus 
between  Nyasa  and  Tanganyika,  but,  steadily,  evil,  in  various 
disguises,  haunted  him.    First,  his  transport  animals  died,  his 


268  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

Indian  escort  malingered,  and  halted,  faint-hearted,  on  the 
road,  until  they  were  dismissed;  then  his  Johanna  escort 
played  the  same  trick  and  deserted  him,  after  which  his 
porters  under  various  pretences  absconded ;  the  natives  took 
advantage  of  his  weakness,  and  tyrannised  over  him  at  every 
opportunity.  A  canoe  capsized  on  Lake  Bangweolo,  which 
accident  deprived  him  of  his  medicine-chest;  then,  malarial 
diseases,  finding  the  body  now  vulnerable  and  open  to  attack, 
assailed  him,  poisoned  his  blood,  and  ravished  his  strength. 
Malignant  ulcers  flourished  on  the  muscles  of  his  limbs,  dysen- 
tery robbed  him  of  the  vital  constituent  of  his  body.  Still, 
after  a  time,  he  rose  from  his  sick-bed,  and  pressed  on  un- 
falteringly. 

The  watershed,  when  he  reached  it,  grew  to  be  a  tougher 
problem  than  he  had  conceived  it  to  be.  On  the  northern 
slope,  a  countless  multitude  of  streams  poured  northward, 
into  an  enormously  wide  valley.  At  its  lowest  depression,  they 
were  met  by  others,  rushing  to  meet  them  from  the  north  and 
east.  United,  they  formed  a  river  of  such  volume  and  current 
that  he  paused  in  wonder.  So  remote  from  all  known  rivers  — 
Nile,  Niger,  Congo  —  and  yet  so  large !  Heedless  of  his  beg- 
gared state,  forgetful  of  his  past  miseries,  unconscious  of  his 
weakness,  his  fidelity  to  his  promise  drives  him  on  with  the 
zeal  of  an  honourable  fanatic.  He  must  fulfil  his  promise,  or 
die  in  the  attempt ! 

We,  lapped  as  we  are  in  luxury,  feeding  on  the  daintiest 
diet,  affecting  an  epicurean  cynicism,  with  the  noble  virtues 
of  our  youth  and  earlier  life  blunted  from  too  close  contact 
with  animal  pleasures,  can  only  smile  contemptuously,  com- 
passionating these  morbid  ideas  of  honour!  This  man,  how- 
ever, verging  upon  old  age,  is  so  beset  by  these  severely-rigid 
scruples  of  his  that  he  must  go  on. 

He  traces  that  voluminous  river  until  it  enters  a  shallow 
lake  called  Bangweolo,  which  spreads  out  on  either  hand 
beyond  sight,  like  a  sea.  He  attempts  to  navigate  it ;  his  in- 
tention is  frustrated  by  a  calamity  —  the  last  of  his  medicines 
are  lost,  his  instruments  are  damaged.  He  determines  to  go 
by  land,  reaches  Cazembe,  and  by  the  natives  he  is  told  of 
other  lakes  and  rivers  without  end,  all  trending  northward. 
He  directs  his  steps  north  and  west  to  gather  the  clues  to  the 


THE  FINDING   OF  LIVINGSTONE  269 

riverine  labyrinth,  until  he  is,  perforce,  halted  by  utter  ex- 
haustion of  his  means.  He  meets  an  Arab,  begs  a  loan  for 
mere  subsistence ;  and,  on  that  account,  must  needs  march 
whither  the  Arab  goes. 

Hearing  of  a  caravan  bound  coastward,  he  writes  a  letter 
to  Zanzibar  in  1867,  and  directs  that  goods  should  be  sent  to 
him  at  Ujiji ;  and,  bidding  his  soul  possess  itself  with  patience, 
he  wanders  with  the  Arab  merchant  for  a  whole  year,  and, 
in  1869,  arrives  at  Ujiji.  There  is  nothing  there  for  him;  but 
a  draft  on  Zanzibar  suffices  to  purchase,  at  an  extortionate 
charge,  a  few  bags  of  beads  and  a  few  bales  of  cloth,  with 
which  he  proposes  to  march  due  west  to  strike  that  great  river 
discovered  two  years  before  so  far  south.  This  is  loyalty  to  a 
friend  with  a  vengeance ! 

The  friend  to  whom  he  had  given  his  promise,  had  he  but 
known  to  what  desperate  straits  the  old  man  was  reduced, 
would  long  ago  have  absolved  him.  Livingstone  was  now  in 
his  fifty-seventh  year,  toothless,  ill-clad,  a  constant  victim  to 
disease,  meagre  and  gaunt  from  famine :  but  Livingstone's 
word  was  not  a  thing  to  be  obliterated  by  forgetfulness  —  he 
had  made  it  his  creed,  and  resolved  to  be  true  to  it. 

Well,  this  insatiable  zeal  for  his  word  demands  that  he 
proceed  due  west,  to  find  this  river.  He  travels  until  within 
a  hundred  miles  of  it,  when  he  is  stricken  down  by  African 
ulcers  of  a  peculiarly  virulent  type,  which  confine  him  to  his 
bed  for  months.  During  this  forced  rest,  his  few  followers 
become  utterly  demoralised ;  they  refuse  to  stay  with  a  man 
who  seems  bent  on  self-destruction,  and  so  blind,  they  say, 
that  he  will  not  see  he  is  marching  to  his  doom.  The  ninth 
month  brings  relief  —  his  body  is  cured,  a  small  re-enforcement 
of  men  appear  before  him,  in  answer  to  the  letter  he  had  sent 
in  1867. 

The  new  men  inform  him  they  have  only  come  to  convey 
him  back  to  the  coast.  He  repudiates  the  insinuation  their 
words  convey  with  indignant  warmth.  He  buys  their  sub- 
mission by  liberal  largesse,  and  resumes  his  interrupted  jour- 
ney westward.  In  a  few  days,  he  arrives  at  the  banks  of  the 
Lualaba,  which  is  now  two  thousand  yards  wide,  deep,  and 
flowing  strong  still  northward,  at  a  point  thirteen  hundred 
miles  from  its  source.   The  natives  as  well  as  the  Arab  traders 


270  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

unite  in  the  statement  that,  as  far  as  their  acquaintance  with 
it  is,  its  course  is  northward.  The  problem  becomes  more  and 
more  difficult,  and  its  resolution  is  ever  elusive.  His  instru- 
ments make  it  only  two  thousand  feet  above  the  sea  —  the 
Nile,  six  hundred  miles  northward,  is  also  two  thousand  feet ! 
How  can  this  river  be  the  Nile,  then?  Yet  its  course  is 
northward  and  Nileward, — has  been  northward  and  Nileward 
ever  since  it  left  Bangweolo  Lake,  seven  hundred  miles  south 
of  where  he  stands,  —  and,  for  many  weeks'  travel  along  its 
banks,  all  reports  prove  that  it  continues  its  northerly  flow. 

To  settle  this  exasperating  puzzle,  he  endeavours  to  pur- 
chase canoes  for  its  navigation  ;  but  his  men  become  rebellious 
and  frantic  in  their  opposition,  and  Livingstone  finds  that 
every  attempt  he  makes  is  thwarted.  While  hesitating  what 
to  do,  he  receives  a  letter,  which  informs  him  that  another 
caravan  has  arrived  for  him  at  Ujiji.  He  resolves  to  journey 
back  to  Lake  Tanganyika,  and  dismiss  these  obstinate  and 
mutinous  followers  of  his;  and,  with  new  men,  carefully 
chosen,  return  to  this  interesting  field,  and  explore  it  until  he 
discovers  the  bourn  of  that  immense  river. 

He  arrives  at  Ujiji  about  the  1st  of  November,  1871,  only 
to  find  that  his  caravan  has  been  disbanded,  and  the  goods 
sold  by  its  chief ;  in  other  words,  that  his  present  state  is  worse 
than  ever! 

He  is  now  in  his  fifty-ninth  year,  far  away  from  the  scene 
of  his  premeditated  labours;  the  sea,  where  he  might  have 
rest  and  relief  from  these  continually-repeating  misfortunes, 
though  only  nine  hundred  miles  off,  is  as  inaccessible  as  the 
moon  to  him,  because  Miramboand  his  banditsare  carrying  on 
a  ravaging  and  desolating  war  throughout  all  the  region  east  of 
Ujiji.  The  Arabs  of  the  colony  have  no  comfort  to  impart  to 
him,  for  they,  too,  feel  the  doom  of  isolation  impending  over 
them.  Over  and  over  again,  they  have  despatched  scouts 
eastward,  and  each  time  these  have  returned  with  the  authen- 
tic news  that  all  routes  to  the  sea  are  closed  by  sanguinary 
brigandage.  Not  knowing  how  long  this  period  may  last,  the 
Arabs  practise  the  strictest  economy ;  they  have  neither  cloth 
nor  bead  currency  to  lend,  however  large  may  be  the  interest 
offered  for  the  loan.  But,  as  the  position  of  the  old  man  has 
become  desperate,  and  he  and  his  few  followers  may  die  of 


THE  FINDING  OF  LIVINGSTONE  271 

starvation,  if  no  relief  be  given,  Sayed  bin  Majid  and  Moham- 
med bin  Gharib  advance  a  few  dozen  cloths  to  him,  which, 
with  miserly  economy,  may  suffice  to  purchase  food  for  a 
month. 

And  then  ?  Ah !  then  the  prospect  will  be  blank  indeed ! 
However,  'Thy  will  be  done.  Elijah  was  fed  by  a  raven;  a 
mere  dove  brought  hope  to  Noah ;  unto  the  hungering  Christ, 
angels  ministered.  To  God,  the  All-bountiful,  all  things  are 
possible ! ' 

To  keep  his  mind  from  brooding  over  the  hopeless  prospect, 
he  turns  to  his  Journal,  occupies  himself  with  writing  down  at 
large,  and  with  method,  the  brief  jottings  of  his  lengthy  jour- 
neys, that  nothing  may  be  obscure  of  his  history  in  the  African 
wilds  to  those  who  may  hereafter  act  as  the  executors  and 
administrators  of  his  literary  estate.  When  fatigued  by  his 
constrained  position  on  the  clay  floor  in  that  east-facing 
verandah,  he  would  lift  his  heavy  Journal  from  his  lap,  and, 
with  hand  to  chin,  sit  for  hours  in  his  brooding  moods,  think- 
ing, ever  thinking  —  mind  ever  revolving  the  prayer,  '  How 
long,  O  Lord,  must  Thy  servant  bear  all  this?' 

At  noon,  on  the  tenth  day  after  his  arrival  at  Ujiji  from 
the  west,  —  while  he  was  in  one  of  these  brooding  fits  on  the 
verandah,  —  looking  up  to  the  edge  of  that  mountain-plateau, 
whence  we,  a  few  hours  before,  had  gazed  in  rapture  on  the 
Tanganyika,  several  volleys  of  musketry  suddenly  startled 
him  and  his  drowsy  neighbours.  The  town  was  wakened  from 
its  siesta  by  the  alarming  sound  of  firing.  The  inhabitants 
hurriedly  issued  out  of  their  homes  somewhat  frightened, 
asking  one  another  if  it  were  Mirambo  and  his  bandits.  The 
general  suspicion  that  the  strangers  could  be  no  other  than  the 
ubiquitous  African  chief  and  his  wild  men  caused  all  to  lay 
their  hands  on  their  arms  and  prepare  for  the  conflict.  The 
boldest,  creeping  cautiously  out  of  the  town,  see  a  caravan 
descending  slowly  towards  Ujiji,  bearing  the  Zanzibar  and 
American  flags  in  front,  and  rush  back  shouting  out  the  news 
that  the  strangers  are  friends  from  Zanzibar. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  news  becomes  more  definite :  people 
say  that  it  is  a  white  man's  caravan.  Looking  out  upon  the 
market-place  from  his  verandah,  Livingstone  is,  from  the  first, 
aware  of  the  excitement  which  the  sudden  firing  is  causing; 


2J2  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

but  if  it  be  Mirambo,  as  all  suspect  it  to  be,  it  does  not  matter 
much  to  him,  for  he  is  above  the  miserable  fear  of  death; 
violent  as  it  may  be,  it  will  be  but  a  happy  release  from  the 
afflictions  of  life.  Soon,  however,  men  cried  out  to  him,  '  Joy, 
old  master,  it  is  a  white  man's  caravan ;  it  may  belong  to  a 
friend  of  thine/  This  Livingstone  contemptuously  declines  to 
believe.  It  is  then  that  Susi  appears,  rushing  up  to  me  with 
his  impulsive  '  Good-morning.'  None  knew  better  than  Susi 
what  a  change  in  the  circumstances  of  his  old  master  and  him- 
self the  arrival  of  an  English-speaking  white  man  foreshad- 
owed. With  even  more  energy  of  movement  he  returned  to 
Livingstone,  crying,  '  It  is  true,  sir,  it  is  a  white  man,  he  speaks 
English ;  and  he  has  got  an  American  flag  with  him.'  More 
than  ever  perplexed  by  this  news,  he  asks,  '  But  are  you  sure 
of  what  you  say  ?  Have  you  seen  him  ?  ' 

At  this  moment  the  Arab  chiefs  came  in  a  group  to  him,  and 
said,  '  Come,  arise,  friend  David.  Let  us  go  and  meet  this 
white  stranger.  He  may  be  a  relative  of  thine.  Please  God,  he 
is  sure  to  be  a  friend.   The  praise  be  to  God  for  His  goodness ! ' 

They  had  barely  reached  the  centre  of  the  market-place, 
when  the  head  of  the  caravan  appeared,  and  a  few  seconds 
later  the  two  white  men  —  Livingstone  and  myself  —  met, 
as  already  described. 

Our  meeting  took  place  on  the  ioth  November,  1871.  It 
found  him  reduced  to  the  lowest  ebb  in  fortune  by  his  endless 
quest  of  the  solution  to  the  problem  of  that  mighty  river 
Lualaba,  which,  at  a  distance  of  three  hundred  miles  from 
Lake  Tanganyika,  flowed  parallel  with  the  lake,  northward. 
In  body,  he  was,  as  he  himself  expressed  it,  la  mere  ruckle  of 
bones.' 

The  effect  of  the  meeting  was  a  rapid  restoration  to  health ; 
he  was  also  placed  above  want,  for  he  had  now  stores  in 
abundance  sufficient  to  have  kept  him  in  comfort  in  Ujiji  for 
years,  or  to  equip  an  expedition  capable  of  solving  within  a  few 
months  even  that  tough  problem  of  the  Lualaba.  There  was 
only  one  thing  wanting  to  complete  the  old  man's  happiness  — 
that  was  an  obedient  and  tractable  escort.  Could  I  have  fur- 
nished this  to  him  there  and  then,  no  doubt  Livingstone  would 
have  been  alive  to-day,1  because,  after  a  few  days'  rest  at  Ujiji, 

1  This  was  written  in  1885.  — D.  S. 


THE  FINDING  OF  LIVINGSTONE  273 

we  should  have  parted  —  he  to  return  to  the  Lualaba,  and 
trace  the  river,  perhaps,  down  to  the  sea,  or  until  he  found 
sufficient  proofs  that  it  was  the  Congo,  which  would  be  about 
seven  hundred  miles  north-west  of  Nyangwe;  I  journeying 
to  the  East  Coast. 

As  my  people,  however,  had  only  been  engaged  for  two 
years,  no  bribe  would  have  been  sufficient  to  have  made  them 
tractable  for  a  greater  period.  But,  inasmuch  as  Livingstone 
would  not  relinquish  his  unfinished  task,  and  no  men  of  the 
kind  he  needed  were  procurable  at  Ujiji,  it  was  necessary  that 
he  should  return  with  me  to  Unyanyembe,  and  rest  there  until 
I  could  provide  him  with  the  force  he  needed.  To  this,  the  last 
of  many  propositions  made  to  him,  he  agreed.  After  exploring 
together  the  north  end  of  Lake  Tanganyika,  and  disproving 
the  theory  that  the  Lake  had  any  connection  with  the  Albert 
Nyanza,  we  set  out  from  Ujiji,  on  the  27th  December,  1871, 
and  arrived  at  Unyanyembe  on  the  18th  February,  1872. 

January  3,  1872.  Had  some  modest  sport  among  some 
zebras,  and  secured  a  quantity  of  meat,  which  will  be  useful. 
Livingstone,  this  afternoon,  got  upon  his  favourite  topics,  the 
Zambesi  Mission,  the  Portuguese  and  Arab  slave-trade,  and 
these  subjects  invariably  bring  him  to  relate  incidents  about 
what  he  has  witnessed  of  African  nature  and  aptitudes.  I  con- 
clude, from  the  importance  he  attaches  to  these,  that  he  is 
more  interested  in  ethnology  than  in  topographical  geography. 
Though  the  Nile  problem  and  the  central  line  of  drainage 
are  frequently  on  his  lips,  they  are  second  to  the  humanities 
observed  on  his  wanderings,  which,  whether  at  the  morning 
coffee,  tiffin,  or  dinner,  occupy  him  throughout  the  meal. 

The  Manyuema  women  must  have  attracted  him  by  their 
beauty,  from  which  I  gather  that  they  must  be  superior  to 
the  average  female  native.  He  speaks  of  their  large  eyes,  their 
intelligent  looks,  and  pretty,  expressive,  arch  ways.  Then  he 
refers  to  the  customs  at  Cazembe's  Court,  and  the  kindness 
received  from  the  women  there. 

In  a  little  while,  I  am  listening  to  the  atrocities  of  Taga- 
moyo,  the  half-caste  Arab,  who  surrounded  a  Manyuema 
market,  and,  with  his  long-shirted  followers,  fired  most  mur- 
derous volleys  on  the  natives  as  they  were  innocently  chaf- 
fering about  their  wares.  Then  there  is  real  passion  in  his  Ian- 


274  HENRY   M.  STANLEY 

guage,  and  I  fancy  from  the  angry  glitter  in  his  eyes  that,  were 
it  in  his  power,  Tagamoyo  and  his  gang  should  have  a  quick 
taste  of  the  terror  he  has  inspired  among  the  simple  peoples  of 
Manyuema.  He  is  truly  pathetic  when  he  describes  the  poor 
enchained  slaves,  and  the  unhappy  beings  whose  necks  he  has 
seen  galled  by  the  tree-forks,  lumbering  and  tottering  along 
the  paths,  watched  by  the  steady,  cruel  eyes  of  their  drivers, 
etc.,  etc. 

The  topics  change  so  abruptly  that  I  find  it  almost  impos- 
sible to  remember  a  tithe  of  them ;  and  they  refer  to  things 
about  which  I  know  so  little  that  it  will  be  hard  to  make  a 
summary  of  what  I  am  told  at  each  meal.  One  cannot  always 
have  his  note-book  handy,  for  we  drop  upon  a  subject  so  sud- 
denly, and  often,  in  my  interest,  I  forget  what  I  ought  to  do. 
I  must  trust  largely  to  the  fact  that  I  am  becoming  steeped  in 
Livingstonian  ideas  upon  everything  that  is  African,  from 
pity  for  the  big-stomached  picaninny,  clinging  to  the  waist- 
strings  of  its  mother,  to  the  missionary  bishop,  and  the  great 
explorers,  Burton,  Speke,  and  Baker. 

He  is  a  strong  man  in  every  way,  with  an  individual  tenacity 
of  character.  His  memory  is  retentive.  How  he  can  remember 
Whittier's  poems,  couplets  out  of  which  I  hear  frequently,  as 
well  as  from  Longfellow,  I  cannot  make  out.  I  do  not  think 
he  has  any  of  these  books  with  him.  But  he  recites  them  as 
though  he  had  read  them  yesterday. 

March  3.  Livingstone  reverted  again  to  his  charges  against 
the  missionaries  on  the  Zambesi,  and  some  of  his  naval  officers 
on  the  expedition. 

I  have  had  some  intrusive  suspicions,  thoughts  that  he  was 
not  of  such  an  angelic  temper  as  I  believed  him  to  be  during 
my  first  month  with  him ;  but,  for  the  last  month,  I  have  been 
driving  them  steadily  from  my  mind,  or  perhaps  to  be  fair,  he 
by  his  conversations,  by  his  prayers,  his  actions,  and  a  more 
careful  weighing  and  a  wider  knowledge  of  all  the  circum- 
stances, assists  me  to  extinguish  them.  Livingstone,  with  all  his 
frankness,  does  not  unfold  himself  at  once ;  and  what  he  leaves 
untold  may  be  just  as  vital  to  a  righteous  understanding  of 
these  disputes  as  what  he  has  said.  Some  reparation  I  owe  him 
for  having  been  on  the  verge  of  prejudice  before  I  even  saw  him. 
I  expected,  and  was  prepared,  to  meet  a  crusty  misanthrope, 


THE  FINDING  OF  LIVINGSTONE  275 

and  I  was  on  my  guard  that  the  first  offence  should  not  come 
from  me;  but  I  met  a  sweet  opposite,  and,  by  leaps  and 
bounds,  my  admiration  grew  in  consequence.  When,  how- 
ever, he  reiterated  his  complaints  against  this  man  and  the 
other,  I  felt  the  faintest  fear  that  his  strong  nature  was  opposed 
to  forgiveness,  and  that  he  was  not  so  perfect  as  at  the  first 
blush  of  friendship  I  thought  him.  I  grew  shy  of  the  recur- 
rent theme,  lest  I  should  find  my  fear  confirmed.  Had  I  left 
him  at  Ujiji,  I  should  have  lost  the  chance  of  viewing  him 
on  the  march,  and  obtaining  that  more  detailed  knowledge  I 
have,  by  which  I  am  able  to  put  myself  into  his  place,  and, 
feeling  something  of  his  feelings,  to  understand  the  position 
better. 

It  was  an  ungrateful  task  to  have  to  reproach  the  mission- 
aries for  their  over-zeal  against  the  slave-traders,  though  he 
quite  shared  their  hatred  of  the  trade,  and  all  connected  with 
it ;  but  to  be  himself  charged,  as  he  was,  with  having  been  the 
cause  of  their  militant  behaviour,  to  be  blamed  for  their  neg- 
lect of  their  special  duties,  and  for  their  follies,  by  the  very 
men  whom  he  has  assisted  and  advised,  was  too  much. 

But,  in  thinking  that  it  was  rather  a  weakness  to  dwell  on 
these  bitter  memories,  I  forgot  that  he  was  speaking  to  me, 
who  had  reminded  him  of  his  experiences,  and  who  pestered 
him  with  questions  about  this  year  and  another,  upon  this 
topic  and  that ;  and  I  thought  that  it  was  not  fair  to  retaliate 
with  inward  accusations  that  he  was  making  too  much  of  these 
things,  when  it  was  my  own  fault.  Then  I  thought  of  his  lone- 
liness, and  that  to  speak  of  xAirican  geography  to  a  man 
who  was  himself  in  Africa,  was  not  only  not  entertaining,  but 
unnecessary ;  and  that  to  refuse  to  speak  of  personal  events 
would,  from  the  nature  of  a  man,  be  imputed  to  him  as  reserve, 
and,  perhaps,  something  worse.  These  things  I  revolved, 
caused  by  observations  on  his  daily  method  of  life,  his  pious 
habits,  in  the  boat,  (the  tent,  and  the  house. 

At  Kwikuru,  just  before  the  day  we  got  our  letters  from 
Europe,  I  went  to  the  cook  Ulimengo,  who  was  acting  in 
Ferajji's  place;  and,  being  half-mad  with  the  huge  doses  of 
quinine  I  had  taken,  and  distressingly  weak,  I  sharply  scolded 
him  for  not  cleaning  his  coffee-pots,  and  said  that  I  tasted  the 
verdigris  in  every  article  of  food,  and  I  violently  asked  if  he 


276  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

meant  to  poison  us.  I  showed  him  the  kettles  and  the  pots, 
and  the  loathsome  green  on  the  rims.  He  turned  to  me  with 
astounding  insolence,  and  sneeringly  asked  if  I  was  any  better 
than  the  '  big  master,'  and  said  that  what  was  good  for  him 
was  good  for  me  —  the  '  little  master.' 

I  clouted  him  at  once,  not  only  for  his  insolent  question, 
but  because  I  recognised  a  disposition  to  fight.  Ulimengo 
stood  up  and  laid  hold  of  me.  On  freeing  myself,  I  searched 
for  some  handy  instrument;  but,  at  this  juncture,  Living- 
stone came  out  of  the  tent,  and  cried  out  to  Ulimengo,  '  Poli- 
poli-hapo '  [Gently  there] !  What  is  the  matter,  Mr.  Stanley?  ' 
Almost  breathless  between  passion  and  quinine,  I  spluttered 
out  my  explanations.  Then,  lifting  his  right  hand  with  the 
curved  forefinger,  he  said,  '  I  will  settle  this.'  I  stood  quieted ; 
but,  what  with  unsatisfied  rage  and  shameful  weakness,  the 
tears  rolled  down  as  copiously  as  when  a  child. 

I  heard  him  say,  '  Now,  Ulimengo,  you  are  a  big  fool :  a  big, 
thick-headed  fellow.  I  believe  you  are  a  very  wicked  man. 
Your  head  is  full  of  lying  ideas.  Understand  me  now,  and 
open  your  ears.  I  am  a  Mgeni  [guest]  and  only  a  Mgeni,  and 
have  nothing  to  do  with  this  caravan.  Everything  in  the 
camp  is  my  friend's.  The  food  I  eat,  the  clothes  on  my  back, 
the  shirt  I  wear,  all  are  his.  All  the  bales  and  beads  are  his. 
What  you  put  in  that  belly  of  yours  comes  from  him,  not  from 
me.  He  pays  your  wages.  The  tent  and  the  bed-clothes  belong 
to  him.  He  came  only  to  help  me,  as  you  would  help  your 
brother  or  your  father.  I  am  only  the  "  big  master  "  because 
I  am  older;  but  when  we  march,  or  stop,  must  be  as  he  likes, 
not  me.  Try  and  get  all  that  into  that  thick  skull  of  yours, 
Ulimengo.  Don't  you  see  that  he  is  very  ill,  you  rascal  ?  Now, 
go  and  ask  his  pardon,    Go  on.' 

And  Ulimengo  said  he  was  very  sorry,  and  wanted  to  kiss 
my  feet ;  but  I  wTould  not  let  him. 

Then  Livingstone  took  me  by  the  arm  to  the  tent,  saying, 
1  Come  now,  you  must  not  mind  him.  He  is  only  a  half-sav- 
age, and  does  not  know  any  better.  He  is  probably  a  Banyan 
slave.  Why  should  you  care  what  he  says?  They  are  all 
alike,  unfeeling  and  hard  ! ' 

Little  by  little,  I  softened  down ;  and,  before  night,  I  had 
shaken  hands  with  Ulimengo.    It  is  the  memory  of  several 


THE  FINDING  OF  LIVINGSTONE  277 

small  events,  which,  though  not  worth  recounting  singly, 
muster  in  evidence  and  strike  a  lasting  impression. 

*  You  bad  fellow.  You  very  wicked  fellow.  You  blockhead. 
You  fool  of  a  man,'  were  the  strongest  terms  he  employed, 
where  others  would  have  clubbed,  or  clouted,  or  banned,  and 
blasted.  His  manner  was  that  of  a  cool,  wise,  old  man,  who 
felt  offended,  and  looked  grave. 

March  4,  Sunday.  Service  at  9  a.  m.  Referring  to  his  ad- 
dress to  his  men,  after  the  Sunday  service  was  over,  he  asked 
me  what  conclusions  I  had  come  to  in  regard  to  the  African's 
power  of  receiving  the  gospel? 

'  Well,  really,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  have  not  thought  much 
of  it.  The  Africans  appear  to  me  very  dense,  and  I  suppose  it 
will  take  some  time  before  any  headway  will  be  made.  It  is  a 
slow  affair,  I  think,  altogether.  You  do  not  seem  to  me  to  go 
about  it  in  the  right  way  —  I  do  not  mean  you  personally, 
but  missionaries.  I  cannot  see  how  one  or  two  men  can  hope 
to  make  an  impression  on  the  minds  of  so  many  millions,  when 
all  around  them  is  the  whole  world  continuing  in  its  own 
humdrum  fashion,  absorbed  in  its  avocations,  and  utterly 
regardless  of  the  tiny  village,  or  obscure  district,  where  the 
missionaries  preach  the  gospel.' 

'How  would  you  go  about  it?'  he  asked. 

1 1  would  certainly  have  more  than  one  or  two  missionaries. 
I  would  have  a  thousand,  scattered  not  all  over  the  continent, 
but  among  some  great  tribe  or  cluster  of  tribes,  organised 
systematically,  one  or  two  for  each  village,  so  that  though 
the  outskirts  of  the  tribe  or  area  where  the  gospel  was  at  work 
might  be  disturbed  somewhat  by  the  evil  example  of  those  out- 
side, all  within  the  area  might  be  safely  and  uninterruptedly 
progressing.  Then,  with  the  pupils  who  would  be  turned  out 
from  each  village,  there  would  be  new  forces  to  start  else- 
where outside  the  area.' 

1  In  a  way,  that  is  just  my  opinion ;  but  someone  must  begin 
the  work.  Christ  was  the  beginner  of  the  Christianity  that  is 
now  spread  over  a  large  part  of  the  world,  then  came  the 
Twelve  Apostles,  and  then  the  Disciples.  I  feel,  sometimes, 
as  if  I  were  the  beginner  for  attacking  Central  Africa,  and  that 
others  will  shortly  come ;  and,  after  those,  there  will  come  the 
thousand  workers  that  you  speak  of.  1 1  is  very  dark  and  dreary, 


27$  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

but  the  promise  is, "  Commit  thy  way  to  the  Lord,  trust  in  Him, 
and  He  shall  bring  it  to  pass."  I  may  fall  by  the  way,  being 
unworthy  to  see  the  dawning.  I  thought  I  had  seen  it  when  the 
Zambezi  mission  came  out,  but  the  darkness  has  settled  again, 
darker  than  ever.  It  will  come,  though,  it  must  come,  and  I 
do  not  despair  of  the  day,  one  bit.  The  earth,  that  is  the  whole 
earth,  shall  be  filled  with  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord,  as  the 
waters  cover  the  sea. 

'Loneliness  is  a  terrible  thing,  especially  when  I  think  of 
my  children.  I  have  lost  a  great  deal  of  happiness,  I  know,  by 
these  wanderings.  It  is  as  if  I  had  been  born  to  exile ;  but  it  is 
God's  doing,  and  He  will  do  what  seemeth  good  in  His  own 
eyes.  But  when  my  children  and  home  are  not  in  my  mind,  I 
feel  as  though  appointed  to  this  work  and  no  other.  I  am 
away  from  the  perpetual  hurry  of  civilisation,  and  I  think  I 
see  far  and  clear  into  what  is  to  come;  and  then  I  seem  to 
understand  why  I  was  led  away,  here  and  there,  and  crossed 
and  bafrled  over  and  over  again,  to  wear  out  my  years  and 
strength.  Why  was  it  but  to  be  a  witness  of  the  full  horror  of 
this  slave-trade,  which,  in  the  language  of  Burns,  is  sending 
these  pitiless  half-castes 

"Like  bloodhounds  from  the  slip, 
With  woe  and  murder  o'er  the  land ! " 

1  My  business  is  to  publish  what  I  see,  to  rouse  up  those 
who  have  the  power  to  stop  it,  once  and  for  all.  That  is  the 
beginning ;  but,  in  the  end,  they  will  also  send  proper  teachers 
of  the  gospel,  some  here,  and  some  there,  and  what  you  think 
ought  to  be  done  will  be  done  in  the  Lord's  good  time. 

"See,  yonder,  poor,  o'er-laboured  wight, 
So  abject,  mean,  and  vile! 
Who  begs  a  brother  of  the  earth 
To  give  him  leave  to  toil ! " 

I  have  often  quoted  those  lines  of  Burns  to  myself,  on  my 
travels  in  Manyuema,  when  I  saw  the  trembling  natives  just 
on  the  run,  when  they  suspected  that  we  were  Arabs  about  to 
take  them  from  their  homes  and  compel  them  to  carry  their 
stolen  ivory.  Oh,  well,  there  is  a  good  God  above  who  takes 
note  of  these  things,  and  will,  at  the  proper  moment,  see  that 
justice  will  be  measured  out  to  these  monsters.' 


THE  FINDING  OF  LIVINGSTONE  279 

March  13,  1872.  This  is  the  last  day  of  my  stay  with  dear 
old  Livingstone ;  the  last  night  we  shall  be  together  is  present, 
and  I  cannot  evade  the  morrow.  I  feel  as  though  I  should  like 
to  rebel  against  the  necessity  of  departure.  The  minutes  beat 
fast,  and  grow  into  hours.  Our  door  to-night  is  closed,  and 
we  both  think  our  own  thoughts.  What  his  are,  I  know  not 
—  mine  are  sad.  My  days  seem  to  have  been  spent  far  too 
happily,  for,  now  that  the  last  day  is  almost  gone,  I  bitterly 
regret  the  approach  of  the  parting  hour.  I  now  forget  the 
successive  fevers,  and  their  agonies,  and  the  semi-madness 
into  which  they  often  plunged  me.  The  regret  I  feel  now  is 
greater  than  any  pains  I  have  endured.  But  I  cannot  resist 
the  sure  advance  of  time,  which  is  flying  to-night  far  too  fast. 
What  must  be,  must  be!  I  have  often  parted  with  friends 
before,  and  remember  how  I  lingered  and  wished  to  put  it 
off,  but  the  inevitable  was  not  to  be  prevented.  Fate  came, 
and,  at  the  appointed  hour,  stood  between  us.  To-night  I 
feel  the  same  aching  pain,  but  in  a  greater  degree;  and  the 
farewell  I  fear  may  be  for  ever.  For  ever  ?  and  '  For  ever  '  echo 
the  reverberations  of  a  woeful  whisper ! 

I  have  received  the  thanks  that  he  had  repressed  all  these 
months  in  the  secrecy  of  his  heart,  uttered  with  no  mincing 
phrases,  but  poured  out,  as  it  were,  at  the  last  moment,  until 
I  was  so  affected  that  I  sobbed,  as  one  only  can  in  uncommon 
grief.  The  hour  of  night  and  the  crisis,  —  and  oh !  as  some 
dreadful  doubts  suggested  the  eternal  parting,  —  his  sudden 
outburst  of  gratitude,  with  that  kind  of  praise  that  steals  into 
one  and  touches  the  softer  parts  of  the  ever- veiled  nature,  — 
all  had  their  influence;  and,  for  a  time,  I  was  as  a  sensitive 
child  of  eight  or  so,  and  yielded  to  such  bursts  of  tears  that 
only  such  a  scene  as  this  could  have  forced. 

I  think  it  only  needed  this  softening  to  secure  me  as  his 
obedient  and  devoted  servitor  in  the  future,  should  there  ever 
be  an  occasion  where  I  could  prove  my  zeal. 

On  the  14th  March,  my  expedition  left  Unyanyembe,  he 
accompanying  me  for  a  few  miles.  We  reached  the  slope  of  a 
ridge  overlooking  the  valley,  in  the  middle  of  which  our  house 
where  we  had  lived  together  looked  very  small  in  the  distance. 
I  then  turned  to  him  and  said,  — 


28o  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

1  My  dear  Doctor,  you  must  go  no  further.  You  have  come 
far  enough.  See,  our  house  is  a  good  distance  now,  and  the 
sun  is  very  hot.   Let  me  beg  of  you  to  turn  back.' 

'Well,'  he  replied,  'I  will  say  this  to  you:  you  have  done 
what  few  men  could  do.  And  for  what  you  have  done  for  me, 
I  am  most  grateful.  God  guide  you  safe  home  and  bless  you, 
my  friend ! ' 

'And  may  God  bring  you  safe  back  to  us  all,  my  dear 
friend !  Farewell ! ' 

1  Farewell ! '  he  repeated. 

We  wrung  each  other's  hands,  our  faces  flushed  with  emo- 
tion, tears  rushing  up,  and  blinding  the  eyes.  We  turned  reso- 
lutely away  from  each  other;  but  his  faithful  followers,  by 
rushing  up  to  give  their  parting  words,  protracted  the  painful 
scene. 

1  Good-bye,  all !  Good-bye,  Doctor,  dear  friend ! ' 

'  Good-bye ! ' 

At  the  moment  of  parting,  the  old  man's  noble  face  slightly 
paled,  which  I  knew  to  be  from  suppressed  emotion,  while, 
when  I  looked  into  his  eyes,  I  saw  there  a  kind  of  warning,  to 
look  well  at  him  as  a  friend  looks  for  the  last  time ;  but  the 
effort  well-nigh  unmanned  me,  —  a  little  longer,  and  I  should 
have  utterly  collapsed.  We  both,  however,  preferred  dry  eyes, 
and  outward  calm. 

From  the  crest  of  the  ridge  I  turned  to  take  a  last  long  look 
at  him,  to  impress  his  form  on  my  mind ;  then,  waving  a  last 
parting  signal,  we  descended  the  opposite  slope  on  the  home 
road. 

On  the  fifty-fourth  day  after  leaving  Dr.  Livingstone,  I 
arrived  at  Zanzibar.  Two  weeks  later,  that  is  on  the  20th 
May,  fifty-seven  men,  chosen  people  of  good  character,  sailed 
from  Zanzibar  for  the  mainland,  as  the  expeditionary  force 
which  was  to  accompany  Livingstone  for  a  period  of  two  years 
for  the  completion  of  his  task  of  exploration.  They  arrived  at 
Unyanyembe  on  the  nth  August,  1872,  having  been  eighty- 
two  days  on  the  road. 

Fourteen  days  later,  Livingstone,  amply  equipped  and 
furnished  with  men,  means,  medicines,  and  instruments,  and 
a  small  herd  of  cattle,  set  out  for  the  scene  of  his  explorations. 
Eight  months  later,  the  heroic  life  came  to  its  heroic  end. 


THE   FINDING  OF  LIVINGSTONE  281 

From  an  unpublished  Memorial  to  Livingstone  by  Stanley,  the 
following  passages  are  taken. 

He  preached  no  sermon,  by  word  of  mouth,  while  I  was  in 
company  with  him ;  but  each  day  of  my  companionship  with 
him  witnessed  a  sermon  acted.  The  Divine  instructions,  given 
of  old  on  the  Sacred  Mount,  were  closely  followed,  day  by  day, 
whether  he  rested  in  the  jungle-camp,  or  bided  in  the  traders' 
town,  or  savage  hamlet.  Lowly  of  spirit,  meek  in  speech, 
merciful  of  heart,  pure  in  mind,  and  peaceful  in  act,  suspected 
by  the  Arabs  to  be  an  informer,  and  therefore  calumniated, 
often  offended  at  evils  committed  by  his  own  servants,  but 
ever  forgiving,  often  robbed  and  thwarted,  yet  bearing  no  ill- 
will,  cursed  by  the  marauders,  yet  physicking  their  infirmities, 
most  despitefully  used,  yet  praying  daily  for  all  manner  and 
condition  of  men  !  Narrow,  indeed,  was  the  way  of  eternal  life 
that  he  elected  to  follow,  and  few  are  those  who  choose  it. 

Though  friends  became  indifferent  to  his  fate,  associates 
neglectful,  and  his  servants  mocked  and  betrayed  him, 
though  suitable  substance  was  denied  to  him,  and  though  the 
rain  descended  in  torrents  on  him  in  his  wanderings,  and  the 
tropic  tempests  beat  him  sore,  and  sickened  him  with  their 
rigours,  he  toiled  on,  and  laboured  ever  in  the  Divine  service  he 
had  chosen,  unyielding  and  unresting,  for  the  Christian  man's 
faith  was  firm  that  '  all  would  come  right  at  last.' 

Had  my  soul  been  of  brass,  and  my  heart  of  spelter,  the 
powers  of  my  head  had  surely  compelled  me  to  recognise,  with 
due  honour,  the  Spirit  of  Goodness  which  manifested  itself  in 
him.  Had  there  been  anything  of  the  Pharisee  or  the  hypo- 
crite in  him,  or  had  I  but  traced  a  grain  of  meanness  or  guile  in 
him,  I  had  surely  turned  away  a  sceptic.  But  my  every-day 
study  of  him,  during  health  or  sickness,  deepened  my  rever- 
ence and  increased  my  esteem.  He  was,  in  short,  consistently 
noble,  upright,  pious,  and  manly,  all  the  days  of  my  compan- 
ionship with  him. 

He  professed  to  be  a  Liberal  Presbyterian.  Presbyterianism 
I  have  heard  of,  and  have  read  much  about  it;  but  Liberal 
Presbyterianism, — whence  is  it?  What  special  country 
throughout  the  British  Isles  is  its  birthplace?  Are  there  any 
more  disciples  of  that  particular  creed,  or  was  Livingstone  the 
last?    Read  by  the  light  of  this  good  man's  conduct  and 


282  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

single-mindedness,  its  tenets  would  seem  to  be  a  compound  of 
religious  and  practical  precepts. 

'  Whatever  thy  right  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  all  thy 
might/ 

'  By  the  sweat  of  thy  brow  thou  shalt  eat  bread.' 

1  For  every  idle  word  thou  shalt  be  held  accountable.' 

'  Thou  shalt  worship  the  Lord  thy  God,  and  Him  only  shalt 
thou  serve.' 

1  Thou  shalt  not  kill.' 

'Swear  not  at  all.' 

1  Be  not  slothful  in  business,  but  be  fervent  in  spirit,  and 
serve  the  Lord.' 

1  Mind  not  high  things,  but  condescend  to  men  of  low  estate.' 

'Live  peaceably  with  all  men.' 

'  We  count  those  happy  who  endure.' 

1  Remember  them  that  are  in  bonds,  and  thern  which  suffer 
adversity.' 

'  Watch  thou,  in  all  things ;  endure  afflictions ;  do  the  work 
of  an  evangelist ;  make  full  proof  of  thy  ministry.' 

'  Whatsoever  ye  do,  do  it  heartily.' 

1  Set  your  affections  on  things  above,  not  on  things  of  the 
earth.' 

'  Be  kind  to  one  another,  tender-hearted,  and  forgiving.' 

1  Preach  the  gospel  in  the  regions  beyond  you,  and  boast  not 
in  another  man's  line,  of  things  made  ready  to  your  hand.' 

I  never  discovered  that  there  was  any  printed  code  of 
religious  laws  or  moral  precepts  issued  by  his  church,  wherein 
these  were  specially  alluded  to ;  but  it  grew  evident  during  our 
acquaintance  that  he  erred  not  against  any  of  them.  Greater 
might  he  could  not  have  shown  in  this  interminable  explora- 
tion set  him  by  Sir  Roderick  Murchison,  because  the  work 
performed  by  him  was  beyond  all  proportion  to  his  means  and 
physical  strength.  What  bread  he  ate  was  insufficient  for  his 
bodily  nourishment,  after  the  appalling  fatigues  of  a  march  in 
a  tropical  land. 

His  conversation  was  serious,  his  demeanour  grave  and 
earnest.  Morn  and  eve  he  worshipped,  and,  at  the  end  of  every 
march,  he  thanked  the  Lord  for  His  watchful  Providence.  On 
Sundays  he  conducted  Divine  Service,  and  praised  the  glory  of 
the  Creator,  the  True  God,  to  his  dark  followers.  His  hand  was 


all  thy 


shalt 


and 


liter 
fork 


'. 


■::.:: 

: 
boon 

i 

- 


rchin 


-ryoi 


THE  FINDING  OF  LIVINGSTONE  283 

clear  of  the  stain  of  blood-guiltiness.  Profanity  was  an  abom- 
ination to  him.  He  was  not  indolent  either  in  his  Master's 
service,  or  in  the  cause  to  which  he  was  sacrificing  himself. 
His  life  was  an  evidence  that  he  served  God  with  all  his  heart. 

Nothing  in  the  scale  of  humanity  can  be  conceived  lower 
than  the  tribes  of  Manyuema  with  whom  he  daily  conversed 
as  a  friend.  Regardless  of  such  honours  as  his  country  gener- 
ally pays  to  exceeding  merit,  he  continued  his  journeyings, 
bearing  messages  of  peace  wherever  he  went;  and  when  he 
rested,  chief  and  peasant  among  the  long-neglected  tribes 
ministered  to  his  limited  wants.  Contented  with  performing 
his  duty  according  as  he  was  enabled  to,  such  happiness  as 
can  be  derived  from  righteous  doings,  pure  thoughts,  and  a 
clear  conscience,  was  undoubtedly  his.  His  earnest  labours  for 
the  sake  of  those  in  bonds,  and  the  unhappy  people  who  were 
a  prey  to  the  Arab  kidnapper  and  land  pirate,  few  will  forget. 
The  number  of  his  appeals,  the  constant  recurrence  to  the 
dismal  topic,  and  the  long  lines  of  his  travels,  may  be  accepted 
as  proofs  of  his  heartiness  and  industry. 

He  was  the  first  to  penetrate  to  those  lands  in  the  Cham- 
bezi  and  the  Lualaba  valleys;  his  was  the  first  voice  heard 
speaking  in  the  hamlets  of  Eastern  Sunda  of  the  beauties  of 
the  Christian  religion ;  and  he  was  the  first  preacher  who  dared 
denounce  the  red-handed  Arab  for  his  wickedly  aggressive 
acts.  In  regions  beyond  ken  of  the  most  learned  geographers 
of  Europe,  he  imitated  the  humility  of  the  Founder  of  his 
religion,  and  spoke  in  fervent  strains  of  the  Heavenly  message 
of  peace  and  good-will. 

Should  I  ever  return  to  the  scenes  that  we  knew  together, 
my  mind  would  instantaneously  revert  to  the  good  man  whom 
I  shall  never  see  more.  Be  it  a  rock  he  sat  upon,  a  tree  upon 
which  he  rested,  ground  that  he  walked  upon,  or  a  house  that 
he  dwelt  in,  my  first  thought  would  naturally  be  that  it  was 
associated  with  him.  But  my  belief  is  that  they  would  flush 
my  mind  with  the  goodness  and  nobleness  of  his  expression, 
appealing  to  me,  though  so  silently,  to  remember,  and  con- 
sider, and  strive. 

I  remember  well  when  I  gazed  at  Ujiji,  five  years  later,  from 
the  same  hill  as  where  I  had  announced  the  coming  of  my 
caravan :  I  had  not  been  thinking  much  of  him  until  that  mo- 


284  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

ment,  when,  all  at  once,  above  the  palm  grove  of  Ujiji,  and  the 
long  broad  stretch  of  blue  water  of  the  lake  beyond,  loomed  the 
form  of  Livingstone,  in  the  well-remembered  blue-grey  coat 
of  his  marching  costume,  and  the  blue  naval  cap,  gold-banded, 
regarding  me  with  eyes  so  trustful,  and  face  so  grave  and  sad. 

It  is  the  expression  of  him  that  so  follows  and  clings  to  me, 
and,  indeed,  is  ever  present  when  I  think  of  him,  though  it  is 
difficult  to  communicate  to  others  the  expression  that  I  first 
studied  and  that  most  attracted  me.  There  was  an  earnest 
gravity  in  it ;  life  long  ago  shorn  of  much  of  its  beauty  —  I  may 
say  of  all  its  vulgar  beauty  and  coarser  pleasures,  a  mind  long 
abstracted  from  petty  discontents,  by  preference  feeding  on 
itself,  almost  glorifying  in  itself  as  all-sufficient  to  produce 
content;  therefore  a  composure  settled,  calm,  and  trustful. 

Even  my  presence  was  impotent  to  break  him  from  his 
habit  of  abstraction.  I  might  have  taken  a  book  to  read,  and 
was  silent.  If  I  looked  up  a  few  minutes  later,  I  discovered 
him  deeply  involved  in  his  own  meditations,  right  forefinger 
bent,  timing  his  thoughts,  his  eyes  gazing  far  away  into  in- 
definite distance,  brows  puckered  closely  —  face  set,  and  reso- 
lute, now  and  then  lips  moving,  silently  framing  words. 

1  What  can  he  be  thinking  about  ? '  I  used  to  wonder,  and 
once  I  ventured  to  break  the  silence  with,  — 

1  A  penny  for  your  thoughts,  Doctor.' 

1  They  are  not  worth  it,  my  young  friend,  and  let  me  suggest 
that,  if  I  had  any,  possibly,  I  should  wish  to  keep  them ! ' 

After  which  I  invariably  let  him  alone  when  in  this  mood. 
Sometimes  these  thoughts  were  humorous,  and,  his  face 
wearing  a  smile,  he  would  impart  the  reason  with  some  comic 
story  or  adventure. 

I  have  met  few  so  quickly  responsive  to  gaiety  and  the 
lighter  moods,  none  who  was  more  sociable,  genial,  tolerant, 
and  humorous.  You  must  think  of  him  as  a  contented  soul, 
who  had  yielded  himself  with  an  entire  and  loving  submission, 
and  who  laboured  to  the  best  of  his  means  and  ability,  awak- 
ening to  the  toil  of  the  day,  and  resigning  himself,  without  the 
least  misgiving,  to  the  rest  of  the  night ;  believing  that  the 
effect  of  his  self-renunciation  would  not  be  altogether  barren. 

If  you  can  comprehend  such  a  character,  you  will  under- 
stand Livingstone's  motive  principle. 


CHAPTER    XIV 
ENGLAND   AND   COOMASSIE 

IT  is  not  unadvisedly  that  the  last  chapter  has  been  devoted 
almost  as  much  to  Livingstone  as  to  Stanley.  The  main  story 
of  Stanley's  quest  he  has  told  effectively  elsewhere;1  and  in  his 
interior  life,  which  is  the  central  theme  of  the  present  book,  his  in- 
tercourse with  Livingstone  was  no  small  factor.  The  way  he  knew 
and  loved  Livingstone  reveals  Stanley.  But  to  give  the  whole  story 
of  those  sixteen  months  its  true  perspective,  the  reader  should  either 
turn  to  the  full  narrative,  or  should,  at  least,  give  some  little  play 
to  his  own  imagination. 

The  few  lines  given  to  the  contest  with  Mirambo  represent  months 
of  struggle  with  a  bandit-chief,  and  with  slippery  allies. 

The  three-line  mention  of  the  joint  exploration  of  Lake  Tangan- 
yika stands  for  four  weeks  of  adventurous  voyaging,  geographical 
discovery,  and  encounters  with  hostile  or  thievish  natives.  Through 
the  whole  period  Stanley  carried  an  immense  and  varied  responsi- 
bility. He  was  not  only  commander,  and  chief  of  staff,  but  the  whole 
staff.  The  discipline,  commissariat,  and  medical  care,  of  a  force 
often  numbering  two  hundred  and  more,  all  fell  on  him.  For  his 
followers  he  had  to  take  the  part  of  doctor,  and  occasionally  of 
nurse,  sometimes  including  the  most  menial  offices.  Often  he  was 
prostrated  by  fever,  and  once,  before  finding  Livingstone,  he  lay 
unconscious  for  a  week. 

Problems  of  war  and  diplomacy  confronted  him.  Shall  he  pay 
tribute,  or  resist?  Shall  he  join  forces  with  the  friendly  tribes,  and 
fight  the  fierce  and  powerful  Mirambo  who  blocks  the  way  to  Ujiji? 
He  fights,  and  his  allies  fail  him  at  the  pinch  ;  so  then  he  resorts  to  a 
long  flanking  march  through  unknown  country,  and  literally  cir- 
cumvents his  foes.  So,  for  over  a  year,  every  faculty  is  kept  at  the 
highest  tension. 

Along  with  the  developing  effect  of  the  experience,  comes  the 
solitary  communing  with  Nature,  which  brings  a  spiritual  exaltation. 
Then  follows  the  companionship  with  Livingstone,  a  man  of  heroic 
and  ideal  traits,  uniquely  educated  by  the  African  wilds ;  these  two 
learn  to  know  each  other  by  the  searching  test  of  hourly  compan- 
ionship, amid  savages,  perils,  perplexities,  days  of  adventure,  nights 
of  intimate  converse;  Stanley's  deepest  feelings  finding  worthy 
object  and  full  response  in  the  man  he  had  rescued,  and  sugges- 
tions of  spiritual  and  material  resources  in  the  unknown  continent, 

1  In  How  I  Found  Livingstone. 


286  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

destined  to  germinate  and  bear  fruit; — all  this  his  first  African 
exploration  brought  to  Stanley. 

His  return  to  civilisation  was  not  altogether  a  genial  home-com- 
ing. In  a  way,  he  had  been  more  at  home  in  Africa  than  he  found 
himself  in  England.  There  his  companionship  had  been  with  Na- 
ture, with  Livingstone,  with  his  own  spirit;  the  difficulties  and 
dangers  confronting  him  had  been  a  challenge  to  which  his  full 
powers  made  response ;  and  '  the  free  hand,'  so  dear  to  a  strong  man, 
had  been  his.  Now  he  was  plunged  into  a  highly-artificial  society ; 
its  trappings  and  paraphernalia,  its  formal  dinners,  and  ceremonies, 
were  distasteful  to  him;  above  all,  he  was  thrust  into  a  prominence 
which  brought  far  more  pain  than  pleasure. 

A  flood  of  importunate,  or  inquisitive,  letters  from  strangers 
poured  in  on  him;  he  notes  that  in  one  morning  he  has  received 
twenty-eight.  Relatives  and  acquaintances  of  his  early  years  be- 
came suddenly  affectionate  and  acquisitive;  greedy  claims  were 
made  on  his  purse,  which  he  would  not  wholly  reject.  Worst  of  all, 
with  the  acclamations  of  the  public  which  greeted  him,  were  mingled 
expressions  of  doubt  or  disbelief,  innuendoes,  sneers!  Men,  and 
journals,  of  high  standing,  were  among  the  sceptics. 

Sir  Henry  Rawlinson,  President  of  the  Royal  Geographical  So- 
ciety, wrote  to  the  'Times'  that  it  was  not  true  that  Stanley  had 
discovered  Livingstone,  but  that  Livingstone  had  discovered  Stan- 
ley! The  silly  quip  had  currency  long  after  Sir  Henry  Rawlinson 
had  changed  his  tone ;  and  the  Society  had  passed  a  vote  of  thanks  to 
Stanley.  The  'Standard,'  in  oracular  tones,  called  for  the  sifting  of 
the  discoverer's  story  by  experts;  it  'could  not  resist  some  suspi- 
cions and  misgivings ' ;  it  found  '  something  inexplicable  and  mys- 
terious' in  the  business!  There  were  those  who  publicly  questioned 
the  authenticity  of  letters  which,  at  Stanley's  suggestion,  Living- 
stone had  written  to  the  'Herald.' 

Geographical  pundits  mixed  their  theoretic  speculations  with 
slighting  personal  remarks.  Perhaps  no  great  and  eminent  body  of 
scholars  escapes  a  touch  of  the  Mutual-Admiration  Society;  there 
are  shibboleths  of  nationality,  of  social  class,  of  clan  and  coterie ;  and 
when  an  outsider  steps  on  the  stage,  there  is  solemn  wrinkling  of 
official  foreheads,  and  lifting  of  distinguished  eyebrows.  So  from  the 
'  Royal  Geographical '  some  chill  whiffs  blew  towards  this  '  American,' 
who  brought  strange  tidings  from  Africa.  To  Stanley,  sensitive, 
high-strung,  conscious  of  hard  work,  loyally  done  and  faithfully 
reported,  not  hungry  for  fame,  but  solicitous  of  trust  and  confidence, 
all  this  was  intensely  bitter. 

There  was  a  field-day  at  Brighton  at  the  meeting  of  the  Geogra- 
phical Section  of  the  British  Association,  under  the  presidency  of  Mr. 
(now,  Sir)  Francis  Galton.  Stanley  was  the  central  figure  of  the  occa- 
sion. He  spoke  to  an  audience  of  three  thousand,  with  a  group 
of  great  geographers,  and  Eminences  of  high  degree,  including  the 
ex-Emperor  and  Empress  of  the  French.  The  'Telegraph's'  report 


ENGLAND  AND  COOMASSIE  287 

describes  him  as  speaking  with  entire  self-possession,  with  composure, 
with  a  natural  and  effective  oratory,  and  '  with  the  evident  purpose 
to  speak  his  mind  to  everybody,  without  the  slightest  deference, 
or  hesitation.' 

But,  in  his  Journal,  he  records  that  his  stage-fright  was  so  extreme 
he  could  only  begin  after  three  trials.  At  the  request  of  the  'Royal 
Geographical,'  he  had  prepared  a  brief  paper,  dealing  only  with  the 
exploration  of  the  north  end  of  Lake  Tanganyika.  But,  unexpect- 
edly, he  was  called  on  to  give  some  account  of  his  whole  expedition. 

He  told  his  story,  and  read  his  paper.  A  general  discussion  fol- 
lowed, turning  mainly  on  certain  geographical  questions;  and,  at  the 
end,  Stanley  was  called  on  for  some  final  words,  and  '  winged  words ' 
they  were,  of  passionate  ardour  and  directness.  On  some  of  the 
geographical  opinions,  there  was  criticism ;  and  a  special  attack  was 
made  on  the  theory  to  which  Livingstone  inclined,  that  the  river 
Lualaba  was  the  source  of  the  Nile.  Stanley  had  grave  doubts  of 
that  theory,  which  he  was  destined  ultimately  to  disperse ;  but,  for 
Livingstone's  sake,  he  wanted  it  treated  at  least  with  respect. 

In  the  discussion  there  were  allusions  to  himself,  perhaps  tactless 
rather  than  intentional;  as  when  Mr.  (now,  Sir)  Francis  Galton  re- 
marked that  they  were  not  met  to  listen  to  sensational  stories,  but 
to  serious  facts !  Whether  malicious,  or  only  maladroit,  such  allusions 
were  weighted  by  what  had  gone  before  in  the  Press. 

Stanley  summed  up  with  a  fervent  eulogy  of  Livingstone,  and  a 
biting  comparison  of  the  arm-chair  geographer,  waking  from  his 
nap,  to  dogmatise  about  the  Nile,  with  the  gallant  old  man  seeking 
the  reality  for  years,  amid  savage  and  elementaHoes. 

One  cannot  doubt  that  his  own  essential  veracity  and  manliness 
stamped  themselves  on  the  minds  of  his  audience ;  and,  in  truth,  the 
great  preponderance  of  intelligent  opinion  seems  to  have  been,  from 
the  first,  wholly  in  his  favour.  The  'Times,'  the  '  Daily  News,'  the 
1  Daily  Telegraph,'  and  *  Punch,'  were  among  his  champions.  Liv- 
ingstone's own  family  gratefully  acknowledged  his  really  immense 
services,  and  confirmed  beyond  question  the  genuineness  of  Liv- 
ingstone's letters  brought  home  by  Stanley,  so  confounding  those 
who  had  charged  him  with  forgery.  Lord  Granville,  at  the  Foreign 
Office,  sent  him,  on  the  Queen's  behalf,  a  note  of  congratulation, 
and  a  gold  snuff-box  set  with  diamonds ;  and,  in  a  word,  the  world 
at  large  accepted  him,  then  and  thenceforward,  as  a  true  man  and 
a  hero. 

But  Stanley  suffered  so  keenly  and  so  long,  not  only  at  the  time, 
but  afterwards,  from  the  misrepresentation  and  calumny  he  en- 
countered, that  a  word  more  should  be  given  to  the  subject.  The 
hostility  had  various  sources.  In  America,  the  '  New  York  Herald,' 
always  an  aggressive,  self-assertive,  and  successful  newspaper,  had 
plenty  of  journalistic  foes. 

A  former  employee  of  Stanley's,  whose  behaviour  had^  caused 
serious  trouble,  and  brought  proper  punishment  on  him,  gained  the 


288  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

ear  of  a  prominent  editor,  who  gave  circulation  to  the  grossest 
falsehoods.  In  later  years,  other  subordinates,  whom  Stanley's  just 
and  necessary  discipline  had  offended,  became  his  persistent  calum- 
niators. The  wild  scenes  of  his  explorations,  and  the  stimulus  their 
wonders  gave  to  the  imagination,  acted  sometimes  like  a  tropical 
swamp,  whence  springs  fetid  and  poisonous  vegetation.  Stories 
of  cruelty  and  horror  seemed  to  germinate  spontaneously.  Stanley 
himself  laid  stress  on  the  propensity  in  average  human  nature 
to  noxious  gossip,  and  the  pandering  to  this  taste  by  a  part  of  the 
Press. 

It  is  to  be  remembered,  too,  that  the  circumstances  of  his  early 
life  heightened  his  sensitiveness  to  gossiping  curiosity  and  crude 
misrepresentation.  And,  finally,  he  had  in  his  nature  much  of  the 
woman,  the  Ewigzveibliche ;  he  craved  fame  far  less  than  love  and 
confidence. 

Renown,  as  it  came,  he  accepted,  not  with  indifference,  —  he 
was  too  human  for  that,  —  but  with  tempered  satisfaction.  He  met 
praise  in  the  fine  phrase  Morley  quotes  from  Gladstone,  *  as  one 
meets  a  cooling  breeze,  enjoyed,  but  not  detained.'  The  pain  which 
slander  brought  he  turned  to  account,  setting  it  as  a  lesson  to  him- 
self not  to  misjudge  others.  His  thoughts  upon  his  own  experience 
may  be  sufficiently  shewn  by  an  extract  from  one  of  his  Note-books. 

The  vulgar,  even  hideous,  nonsense,  the  number  and  variety 
of  untruths  published  about  me,  from  this  time  forth  taught 
me,  from  pure  sympathy,  reflection,  and  conviction,  to  modify 
my  judgement  about  others. 

When  anyone  is  about  to  become  an  object  of  popular,  i.  e., 
newspaper  censure,  I  have  been  taught  to  see  how  the 
scavenger-beetles  of  the  Press  contrive  to  pick  up  an  infini- 
tesimal grain  of  fact,  like  the  African  mud-rolling  beetle,  until 
it  becomes  so  monstrously  exaggerated  that  it  is  absolutely 
a  mass  of  filth. 

The  pity  of  it  is  that  most  of  the  writers  forget  for  whom 
they  write.  We  are  not  all  club-loungers,  or  drawing-room 
gossips ;  nor  are  we  all  infected  with  the  prevailing  madness  of 
believing  everything  we  see  in  the  newspapers.  We  do  not  all 
belong  to  that  large  herd  of  unthinking  souls  who  say,  'Surely, 
where  there  is  so  much  smoke,  there  must  be  a  fire ' ;  those 
stupid  souls  who  never  knew  that,  as  likely  as  not,  the  fire  was 
harmless  enough,  and  that  the  alarming  cloud  of  smoke  was 
owing  to  the  reporter's  briarwood ! 

Therefore  I  say,  the  instant  I  perceive,  whether  in  the  Press, 
or  in  Society,  a  charge  levelled  at  some  person,  countryman, 


ENGLAND  AND   COOMASSIE  289 

or  foreigner,  I  put  on  the  brake  of  reason,  to  prevent  my  being 
swept  along  by  the  general  rage  for  scandal  and  abuse,  and 
hold  myself  unconscious  of  the  charge  until  it  is  justified  by 
conviction. 

All  the  actions  of  my  life,  and  I  may  say  all  my  thoughts, 
since  1872,  have  been  strongly  coloured  by  the  storm  of  abuse 
and  the  wholly  unjustifiable  reports  circulated  about  me  then. 
So  numerous  were  my  enemies,  that  my  friends  became  dumb, 
and  I  had  to  resort  to  silence,  as  a  protection  against  outrage. 

It  is  the  one  good  extracted  from  my  persecution  that,  ever 
since,  I  have  been  able  to  restrain  myself  from  undertaking 
to  pass  sentence  on  another  whom  I  do  not  know.  No  man 
who  addresses  himself  to  me  is  permitted  to  launch  judgement 
out  in  that  rash,  impetuous  newspaper  way,  without  being 
made  to  reflect  that  he  knew  less  about  the  matter  than  he  had 
assumed  he  did. 

This  change  in  me  was  not  immediate.  The  vice  of  reckless, 
unthinking  utterance  was  not  to  be  suddenly  extirpated. 
Often,  as  I  opened  my  mouth  in  obedience  to  the  impulse,  I 
was  arrested  by  the  self-accusation,  '  Ah !  there  you  go,  silly 
and  uncharitable  as  ever ! '  It  was  slow  unlearning,  but  the  old 
habit  was  at  last  supplanted  by  the  new. 

Stanley  bore  himself  in  the  spirit  of  the  words  which  F.  W.  H. 
Myers  '  applies  to  Wordsworth :  — 

4  He  who  thus  is  arrogantly  censured  should  remember  both  the 
dignity  and  the  frailty  of  man,  .  .  .  and  go  on  his  way  with  no  bitter 
broodings,  but  yet  .  .  .  "with  a  melancholy  in  the  soul,  a  sinking 
inward  into  ourselves  from  thought  to  thought,  a  steady  remon- 
strance, and  a  high  resolve."  ' 

In  the  months  following  his  return  to  England,  alternating  with 
indignant  protests  against  misrepresentation,  his  Journal  records 
many  public  and  private  hospitalities,  and  meetings  with  eminent 
and  interesting  people,  on  some  of  whom  he  makes  shrewd  and 
appreciative  comment.  One  portraiture  cannot  be  omitted,  —  his 
impressions  of  Queen  Victoria.  The  first  occasion  on  which  he  was 
received  by  Her  Majesty  was  at  Dunrobin  Castle,  when  he  visited 
the  Duke  of  Sutherland,  in  company  with  Sir  Henry  Rawlinson,  who 
did  his  best  to  make  amends  for  his  early  doubts. 

Monday,  10th  September,  1872.  About  noon,  we  had  got 
ready  for  our  reception  by  the  Queen.    Sir  Henry  had  been 

1  Wordsworth,  by  F.  W.  H.  Myers;  in  the  'English  Men  of  Letters'  series. 


2Q0  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

careful  in  instructing  me  how  to  behave  in  the  Presence,  that 
I  had  to  kneel  and  kiss  hands,  and,  above  all,  I  was  not  to  talk, 
or  write,  about  what  I  should  see  or  hear.  I  almost  laughed  in 
his  face  when  he  charged  me  with  the  last,  for  I  doubt  whether 
the  Queen's  daughter  would  be  less  apt  for  gossip  about  such 
things  than  I.  As  for  kneeling,  I  was  pleased  to  forget  it.  We 
stood  for  a  while  in  a  gay  salon,  and  presently  Her  Majesty, 
followed  by  Princess  Beatrice,  entered.  We  all  bowed  most 
profoundly,  and  the  Queen  advancing,  Sir  Henry  introduced 
me  in  a  short  sentence.  I  regarded  her  with  many  feelings,  first 
as  the  greatest  lady  in  the  land,  the  mistress  of  a  great  Empire, 
the  head  of  brave  soldiers  and  sailors  whom  I  had  seen  in  vari- 
ous lands  and  seas,  the  central  figure  to  which  Englishmen 
everywhere  looked  with  eyes  of  love  and  reverence;  and, 
lastly,  as  that  mysterious  personage  whom  I  had  always  heard 
spoken  of,  ever  since  I  could  understand  anything,  as  '  The 
Queen.'  And  poor,  blind  Sir  Henry,  to  think  that  I  would  ven- 
ture to  speak  or  write  about  this  lady,  whom  in  my  heart  of 
hearts,  next  to  God,  I  worshipped !  Besides,  only  of  late,  she 
has  honoured  me  with  a  memorial,  which  is  the  more  priceless 
that  it  was  given  when  so  few  believed  me. 

The  word  '  Majesty'  does  not  rightly  describe  her  bearing. 
I  have  often  seen  more  majestic  creatures,  but  there  was  an 
atmosphere  of  conscious  potency  about  her  which  would  have 
marked  her  in  any  assemblage,  even  without  the  trappings  of 
Royalty.  The  word  'Royal'  aptly  describes  another  char- 
acteristic which  clung  to  her.  Short  in  stature  as  she  is,  and 
not  majestic,  the  very  carriage  of  her  person  bespeaks  the  fact 
of  her  being  aware  of  her  own  inviolability  and  unapproach- 
ableness.  It  was  far  from  being  haughty,  and  yet  it  was  com- 
manding, and  serenely  proud. 

The  conversation,  which  was  principally  about  Livingstone 
and  Africa,  though  it  did  not  last  more  than  ten  minutes,  gave 
me  abundant  matter  to  think  about,  from  having  had  such 
good  opportunities  to  look  into  her  eyes,  and  absorb  as  it  were 
my  impressions,  such  as  they  were. 

What  I  admired  most  was  the  sense  of  power  the  eyes 
revealed,  and  a  quiet,  but  unmistakeable,  kindly  condescen- 
sion ;  and  an  inimitable  calmness  and  self-possession.  I  was 
glad  to  have  seen  her,  not  only  for  the  honour,  and  all  that,  but 


ENGLAND  AND  COOMASSIE  291 

also,  I  think,  because  I  have  carried  something  away  to  muse 
over  at  leisure.  I  am  richer  in  the  understanding  of  power  and 
dominion,  sitting  enthroned  on  human  features. 

He  began  in  England  his  career  as  a  public  lecturer,  and  in  pur- 
suance of  it  went,  in  November,  1872,  to  America.  He  was  re- 
ceived with  high  honours  by  the  public,  and  with  great  cordiality 
by  his  old  friends ;  was  given  a  warm  welcome  by  '  the  boys/  the 
sub-editors  of  the  'Herald,'  and  was  banqueted  by  the  Union 
League  Club,  and  the  St.  Andrew's  Society,  etc.,  etc.  Then  he 
spent  several  months  in  travelling  and  lecturing. 

Returning  to  England,  before  the  clear  summons  came  to  his  next 
great  exploration,  he  once  more,  as  correspondent  of  the  '  Herald,' 
accompanied  and  reported  the  British  campaign  against  the  Ashan- 
tees,  in  1873-74.  That  warlike  and  savage  people,  under  King 
Coffee,  had  been  harrying  the  Fantees,  who  had  lately  come 
under  the  British  Protectorate,  as  occupying  the  '  hinterland '  of 
Elmina  on  the  Gold  Coast,  which  England  had  taken  over  from 
the  Dutch. 

At  intervals  for  half  a  century  there  had  been  harassing  and  fu- 
tile collisions  with  the  Ashantees,  and  it  was  now  determined  to  strike 
hard.  '  In  1823,  Sir  Charles  McCarthy  and  six  hundred  gallant  fel- 
lows perished  before  the  furious  onset  of  the  Ashantees,  and  that 
brave  soldier's  skull,  gold-rimmed  and  highly  venerated,  was  said 
still  to  be  at  Coomassie,  used  as  a  drinking-cup  by  King  Coffee. 

'  In  1863-64,  the  English  suffered  severe  loss.  Couran  marched  to 
the  Prah,  eighty  miles  from  here,  and  marched  back  again,  being 
obliged  to  bury  or  destroy  his  cannon,  and  hurriedly  retreat  to  the 
Cape  Coast.' 

Stanlev  gave  permanent  form  to  his  record  in  the  first  half  of  his 
book,  'Coomassie  and  Magdala'  (1874).  This  campaign  on  the 
West  Coast,  under  Sir  Garnet  Wolseley,  was  like,  and  yet  unlike, 
the  Abyssinian  expedition  on  the  East  Coast,  under  Sir  Robert 
Napier.'  The  march  inland  was  only  one  hundred  and  forty  miles, 
but,  instead  of  the  grand  and  lofty  mountains  of  Abyssinia,  the 
British  soldiers  and  sailors  had  to  cut  their  way  through  unbroken 
jungle.  Stanley's  book  is  the  spirited  story  of  a  well-conducted  ex- 
pedition, told  with  a  firm  grasp  of  the  historical  and  political  situa- 
tion, with  graphic  sketches  of  the  English  officers,  some  of  an  heroic 
type,  and  with  descriptions  of  a  repulsive  type  of  savagery. 
'  Writing  of  the  march,  Stanley  says:  — 

What  languishing  heaviness  of  soul  fills  a  man,  as  he,  a  mere 
mite  in  comparison,  travels  through  the  lofty  and  fearful  forest 
aisle.  If  alone,  there  is  an  almost  palpable  silence,  and  his 
own  heart-pulsations  seem  noisy.  A  night  darkness  envelops 


292  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

him,  and,  from  above,  but  the  faintest  gleams  of  daylight  can 
be  seen.  A  brooding  melancholy  seems  to  rest  on  the  face  of 
nature,  and  the  traveller,  be  he  ever  so  prosaic,  is  filled  with 
a  vague  indefinable  sense  of  foreboding. 

The  enemy  lay  hiding  in  wait,  in  the  middle  of  a  thorny 
jungle,  so  dense  in  some  places  that  one  wonders  how  naked 
men  can  risk  their  unprotected  bodies.  This  vast  jungle 
literally  chokes  the  earth  with  its  density  and  luxuriance.  It 
admits  every  kind  of  shrub,  plant,  and  flower,  into  a  close 
companionship,  where  they  intermingle  each  other's  luxuri- 
ant stalks,  where  they  twine  and  twine  each  other's  long  slen- 
der arms  about  one  another,  and  defy  the  utmost  power  of 
the  sun  to  penetrate  the  leafy  tangle  they  have  reared  ten 
and  fifteen  feet  above  the  dank  earth.  This  is  the  bush  into 
which  the  Ashantee  warriors  creep  on  all  fours,  and  lie  in 
wait  in  the  gloomy  recesses  for  the  enemy.  It  was  in  such 
localities  Sir  Garnet  found  the  Ashantees,  and  where  he  suf- 
fered such  loss  in  his  Staff  and  officers.  Until  the  sonorous 
sounds  of  Danish  musketry  ■  suddenly  awoke  the  echoes,  few 
of  us  suspected  the  foe  so  near;  until  they  betrayed  their 
presence,  the  English  might  have  searched  in  vain  for  the 
hidden  enemy.  Secure  as  they  were  in  their  unapproachable 
coverts,  our  volleys,  which  their  loud-mouthed  challenge 
evoked,  searched  many  a  sinister-looking  bush,  and  in  a 
couple  of  hours  effectually  silenced  their  fire. 

The  fighting,  when  it  came,  was  stubborn.  King  Theodore's 
warriors  had  shewn  no  such  mettle  as  did  the  Ashantees,  who,  for 
five  continuous  days,  waged  fierce  fight.  On  the  first  day,  with  the 
42nd  Highlanders,  the  Black  Watch,  bearing  the  brunt,  and  the 
whole  force  engaged,  the  battle  of  Amoaful  was  won ;  then  three 
days  of  straggling  fighting ;  finally,  on  the  fifth  day,  with  the  Rifle 
Brigade  taking  its  turn  at  the  post  of  honour,  and  Lord  Gifford's 
Scouts  always  in  front,  the  decisive  battle  of  Ordahsu  was  won,  and 
Coomassie  was  taken.  In  the  Capital  were  found  ghastly  relics  of 
wholesale  slaughters,  incidents  of  fetish-worship,  which  far  outdid 
the  horrors  of  King  Theodore's  court. 

We  are  unable  to  realise,  or  are  liable  to  forget,  what  Africa 
was  before  the  advent  of  Explorers   and  Expeditions.    The  Fall  of 
Coomassie,  though  attended  with  great  loss  of  life,  put  an  end  to 
indescribable  horrors  and  atrocities. 

Stanley  writes :  — 

1  The  natives  used  old  Danish  muskets. 


'■"•■"3a 

a  thorny 
-^  naked 

*  i^gle 

to  a  close 

D 

and  lie  in 

■ 
".  rous 

si  to 

tor  the 

able 


1 


[1  ::re's 

0,  who,  (or 

iththe 

gt,  and  the 

then  three 

.  •-  ;:c  Rifle 

iord's 

»os  won,  and 


ENGLAND  AND  COOMASSIE  293 

Each  village  had  placed  its  human  sacrifice  in  the  middle 
of  the  path,  for  the  purpose  of  affrighting  the  conquerors. 
The  sacrifice  was  of  either  sex,  sometimes  a  young  man, 
sometimes  a  woman.  The  head,  severed  from  the  body,  was 
turned  to  meet  the  advancing  army,  the  body  was  evenly  laid 
out  with  the  feet  towards  Coomassie.  This  meant,  no  doubt, 
'Regard  this  face,  white  man,  ye  whose  feet  are  hurrying  on 
to  our  capital,  and  learn  the  fate  awaiting  you.' 

Coomassie  is  a  town  insulated  by  a  deadly  swamp.  A  thick  jungly 
forest  —  so  dense  that  the  sun  seldom  pierced  the  foliage;  so  sickly 
that  the  strongest  fell  victims  to  the  malaria  it  cherished  —  sur- 
rounded it  to  a  depth  of  about  one  hundred  and  forty  miles  seaward, 
and  one  hundred  miles  to  the  north ;  many  hundred  miles  east  and 
west. 

Through  this  forest  and  swamp,  unrelieved  by  any  novelty  or 
a  single  pretty  landscape,  the  British  Army  had  to  march  one  hun- 
dred and  forty  miles,  leaving  numbers  stricken  down  by  fever  and 
dysentery  —  the  terrible  allies  of  the  Ashantee  King  with  his  one 
hundred  thousand  warriors. 

Stanley,  speaking  of  Coomassie,  writes :  — 

The  grove,  which  was  but  a  continuation  of  the  tall  forest 
we  had  travelled  through,  penetrated  as  far  as  the  great 
market-place.  A  narrow  foot-path  led  into  this  grove,  where 
the  foul  smells  became  suffocating.  After  some  thirty  paces 
we  arrived  before  the  dreadful  scene,  but  it  was  almost  im- 
possible to  stop  longer  than  to  take  a  general  view  of  the  great 
Golgotha.  We  saw  some  thirty  or  forty  decapitated  bodies 
in  the  last  stages  of  corruption,  and  countless  skulls,  which 
lay  piled  in  heaps,  and  scattered  over  a  wide  extent.  The 
stoutest  heart  and  the  most  stoical  mind  might  have  been 
appalled. 

At  the  rate  of  a  thousand  victims  a  year,  it  would  be  no 
exaggeration  to  say,  that  over  one  hundred  and  twenty 
thousand  people  must  have  been  slain  for  '  custom,'  since 
Ashantee  became  a  kingdom. 

Lord  Wolseley  wrote:  'Their  capital  was  a  charnel-house;  their 
religion  a  combination  of  cruelty  and  treachery;  their  policy  the 
natural  outcome  of  their  religion.' 

Terms  of  submission  were  imposed  on  King  Coffee,  and  the  force 
returned  to  the  coast. 

Stanley  writes  of  Lord  Wolseley :  — 


294  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

He  has  done  his  best,  and  his  best  has  been  a  mixture  of 
untiring  energy  and  determination;  youthful  ardour,  toned 
down  by  the  sense  of  his  grave  responsibilities,  excellent 
good-nature,  which  nothing  seems  to  damp ;  excessive  amia- 
bility, by  which  we  are  all  benefitted ;  wise  forethought,  which, 
assisted  by  his  devotion  to  work,  proves  that  the  trust  re- 
posed in  him  by  the  British  Government  will  not  be  betrayed. 

Stanley  occasionally  criticises  with  freedom,  both  the  Government, 
for  not  taking  a  larger  view  of  the  whole  situation,  and  Sir  Garnet 
Wolseley,  for  a  somewhat  hasty  settlement  of  the  business,  after  the 
fighting  was  over. 

^  Stanley's  political  foresight  and  desire  for  the  promotion  of 
civilisation  and  commerce,  even  in  such  a  benighted  part  of  West 
Africa,  is  well  exemplified  by  the  following  passage :  — 

If  we  are  wise,  we  will  deprive  our  present  enemy  of  their 
king,  attach  to  ourselves  these  brave  and  formidable  warriors, 
and  through  them  open  the  whole  of  Central  Africa  to  trade 
and  commerce  and  the  beneficent  influences  of  civilisation. 
The  Romans  would  have  been  delighted  at  such  an  oppor- 
tunity of  extending  their  power,  for  the  benefit  of  themselves 
and  the  world  at  large. 

Nothing  in  Stanley's  book  indicates  that  he  took  any  personal 
share  in  the  fighting.  But  in  Lord  Wolseley's  'Story  of  a  Soldier's 
Life,'  volume  ii,  p.  342,  occurs  this  passage:  'Not  twenty  yards  off 
were  several  newspaper  correspondents.  One  was  Mr.  Winwood 
Reid,  a  very  cool  and  daring  man,  who  had  gone  forward  with  the 
fighting-line.  Of  the  others,  one  soon  attracted  my  attention  by  his 
remarkable  coolness.  It  was  Sir  Henry  Stanley,  the  famous  traveller. 
A  thoroughly  good  man,  no  noise,  no  danger  ruffled  his  nerve,  and 
he  looked  as  cool  and  self-possessed  as  if  he  had  been  at  target  prac- 
tice. Time  after  time,  as  I  turned  in  his  direction,  I  saw  him  go 
down  to  a  kneeling  position  to  steady  his  rifle,  as  he  plied  the  most 
daring  of  the  enemy  with  a  never-failing  aim.  It  is  nearly  thirty 
years  ago,  and  I  can  still  see  before  me  the  close-shut  lips,  and  de- 
termined expression  of  his  manly  face,  which,  when  he  looked  in  my 
direction,  told  plainly  I  had  near  me  an  Englishman  in  plain  clothes, 
whom  no  danger  could  appall.  Had  I  felt  inclined  to  run  away,  the 
cool,  unflinching  manliness  of  that  face  would  have  given  me  fresh 
courage.  I  had  been  previously  somewhat  prejudiced  against  him, 
but  all  such  feelings  were  slain  and  buried  at  Amoaf ul.  Ever  since, 
I  have  been  proud  to  reckon  him  amongst  the  bravest  of  my  brave 
comrades ;  and  I  hope  he  may  not  be  offended  if  I  add  him  amongst 
my  best  friends  also.' 


ENGLAND  AND   COOMASSIE  295 

It  was  on  his  way  home  from  the  Ashantee  War  that  the  tidings 
met  Stanley,  which  he  accepted  and  acted  upon  as  a  summons  to  his 
real  life's  work. 

25th  February,  1874.  Arrived  at  the  Island  of  St.  Vincent, 
per  'Dromedary,'  I  was  shocked  to  hear,  on  getting  ashore, 
of  the  death  of  Livingstone  at  Ilala,  near  Lake  Bangweolo,  on 
May  4th,  1873.  His  body  is  on  its  way  to  England,  on  board 
the  ■  Malwa,' x  from  Aden.  Dear  Livingstone  I  another  sacri- 
fice to  Africa !  His  mission,  however,  must  not  be  allowed  to 
cease ;  others  must  go  forward  and  fill  the  gap.  '  Close  up,  boys ! 
close  up !   Death  must  find  us  everywhere. ' 

May  I  be  selected  to  succeed  him  in  opening  up  Africa  to  the 
shining  light  of  Christianity !  My  methods,  however,  will  not 
be  Livingstone's.  Each  man  has  his  own  way.  His,  I  think, 
had  its  defects,  though  the  old  man,  personally,  has  been 
almost  Christ-like  for  goodness,  patience,  and  self-sacrifice. 
The  selfish  and  wooden-headed  world  requires  mastering,  as 
well  as  loving  charity;  for  man  is  a  composite  of  the  spiritual 
and  earthly.  May  Livingstone's  God  be  with  me,  as  He  was 
with  Livingstone  in  all  his  loneliness.  May  God  direct  me  as 
He  wills.    I  can  only  vow  to  be  obedient,  and  not  to  slacken. 

1  The  'Malwa'  arrived  at  Southampton  on  April  i6,  1874. 


CHAPTER  XV 
THROUGH  THE  DARK  CONTINENT 

IN  a  camp  in  the  heart  of  Africa,  not  far  from  Lake 
Bangweolo,  David  Livingstone,  the  traveller-evangelist, 
lay  dead.  His  followers,  numbering  about  three-score 
negroes  of  Zanzibar,  deliberated  upon  their  future  movements. 
To  return  co  the  coast  ruled  by  their  Sultan,  without  their 
great  white  master,  would  provoke  grave  suspicion.  They 
resolved  to  prepare  the  remains  so  as  to  be  fit  for  transpor- 
tation across  a  breadth  of  tropical  region  which  extended  to 
the  Indian  Ocean,  fifteen  hundred  miles.  After  many  weary 
months  of  travel,  they  arrived  at  the  sea-coast  with  the  body. 
In  charge  of  two  of  the  faithful  band,  it  was  placed  on  board 
£.  homeward-bound  steamer,  to  be  finally  deposited  1  in  a  vault 
in  Westminster  Abbey. 

At  the  same  period  when  the  steamer  coasted  along  the 
shores  of  Eastern  Africa,  I  was  returning  to  England  along  the 
coast  of  Western  Africa,  from  the  Ashantee  campaign. 

At  St.  Vincent,  on  February  25th,  1874,  cable  news  of  the 
death  of  Livingstone,  substantiated  beyond  doubt,  was  put 
into  my  hands. 

'At  Lake  Bangweolo  the  death  occurred,'  said  the  cable- 
gram. Just  one  thousand  miles  south  of  Xyangwe  !  The  great 
river  remains,  then,  a  mystery  still,  for  poor  Livingstone's 
work  is  unfinished ! 

Fatal  Africa !  One  after  another,  travellers  drop  away.  It  is 
such  a  huge  continent,  and  each  of  its  secrets  is  environed  by  so 
many  difficulties,  —  the  torrid  heat,  the  miasma  exhaled  from 
the  soil,  the  noisome  vapours  enveloping  every7  path,  the  giant 
cane-grass  suffocating  the  wayfarer,  the  rabid  fury  of  the 
native  guarding  every  entry  and  exit,  the  unspeakable  misery 
of  the  life  within  the  wild  continent,  the  utter  absence  of 
every  comfort,  the  bitterness  which  each  day  heaps  upon  the 
poor  white  man's  head,  in  that  land  of  blackness,  the  som- 

1  On  Saturday,  April  18,  1S74. 


THROUGH  THE  DARK  CONTINENT       297 

brous  solemnity  pervading  every  feature  of  it,  and  the  little 
—  too  little  —  promise  of  success  which  one  feels  on  enter- 
ing it. 

But,  never  mind,  I  will  try  it !  Indeed,  I  have  a  spur  to  goad 
me  on.  My  tale  of  the  discovery  of  Livingstone  has  been 
doubted.  What  I  have  already  endured  in  that  accursed 
Africa  amounts  to  nothing,  in  men's  estimation.  Here,  then, 
is  an  opportunity  for  me  to  prove  my  veracity,  and  the  gen- 
uineness of  my  narrative ! 

Let  me  see :  Livingstone  died  in  endeavouring  to  solve  the 
problem  of  the  Lualaba  River.  John  Hanning  Speke  died  by 
a  gun-shot  wound  during  a  discussion  as  to  whether  Lake 
Victoria  was  one  lake,  as  he  maintained  it  to  be ;  or  whether, 
as  asserted  by  Captain  Burton,  James  McQueen,  and  other 
theorists,  it  consisted  of  a  cluster  of  lakes. 

Lake  Tanganyika,  being  a  sweet-water  lake,  must  naturally 
possess  an  outlet  somewhere.  It  has  not  been  circumnavigated 
and  is  therefore  unexplored.    I  will  settle  that  problem  also. 

Then  I  may  be  able  to  throw  some  light  on  Lake  Albert. 
Sir  Samuel  Baker  voyaged  along  some  sixty  miles  of  its  north- 
eastern shore,  but  he  said  it  was  illimitable  to  the  south-west. 
To  know  the  extent  of  that  lake  would  be  worth  some  trouble. 
Surely,  if  I  can  resolve  any  of  these,  which  such  travellers  as 
Dr.  Livingstone,  Captains  Burton,  Speke,  and  Grant,  and  Sir 
Samuel  Baker  left  unsettled,  people  must  needs  believe  that 
I  discovered  Livingstone ! 

A  little  while  after  the  burial *  of  Livingstone  at  Westmin- 
ster, I  strolled  over  to  the  office  of  the  '  Daily  Telegraph,'  and 
pointed  out  to  the  proprietors  how  much  remained  shrouded 
in  mystery  in  Dark  Africa. 

The  proprietor  asked,  '  But  do  you  think  you  can  settle  all 
these  interesting  geographical  problems?' 

'Nay,  Mr.  Lawson,  that  is  not  a  fair  question.  I  mean  to 
say  I  can  do  my  level  best,  that  nothing  on  my  part  shall  be 
lacking  to  make  a  systematic  exploration  which  shall  embrace 
all  the  regions  containing  these  secrets;  but  Africa  includes  so 
many  dangers  from  man,  beast,  and  climate,  that  it  would  be 
the  height  of  immeasurable  conceit  to  say  I  shall  be  successful. 

1  For  a  full  account  of  the  funeral  obsequies,  see  the  Memoir  prefacing  Stanley's  book, 
How  I  Found  Livingstone. 


293  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

My  promise  that  I  will  endeavour  to  be  even  with  my  word, 
must  be  accepted  by  you  as  sufficient.' 

'Well,  well!  I  will  cable  over  to  Bennett  of  the  New  York 
"  Herald,"  and  ask  if  he  is  willing  to  join  in  this  expedition  of 
yours.' 

Deep  under  the  Atlantic,  the  question  was  flashed.  Gordon 
Bennett  tore  open  the  telegram  in  New  York  City,  and,  after 
a  moment's  thought,  snatched  a  blank  form  and  wrote,  '  Yes ! 
Bennett.' 

This  was  the  answer  put  into  my  hand  the  same  day  at 
135,  Fleet  Street.  You  may  imagine  my  feelings,  as  I  read  the 
simple  monosyllable  which  was  my  commission :  bales,  pack- 
ages, boxes,  trunks,  bills,  letters,  flowing  in  a  continuous 
stream;  the  writing,  telegraphing,  and  nervous  hurry  and 
flurry  of  each  day's  work,  until  we  sailed !  Follow  me  in 
thought  to  the  deck  of  the  steam-ferry  across  the  English 
Channel ;  fancy  that  you  hear  my  plucky  fisher-boys  from  the 
Med  way,1  saying  to  the  white  cliffs  of  Dover,  'Good-bye, 
dear  England !  and  if  for  ever,  then  for  ever  good-bye,  O 
England ! '  Think  of  us  a  few  weeks  later,  arrived  at  Zanzi- 
bar, where  we  make  our  final  preparations  for  the  long  journey 
we  are  about  to  make. 

Zanzibar  is  an  island,  as  I  suppose  you  know,  situate 
three  hundred  and  sixty-nine  miles  south  of  the  Equator,  and 
about  twenty  miles  from  the  eastern  mainland. 

Its  ruler  is  Prince  Barghash,  son  of  Saved.  His  subjects  are 
very  mixed,  and  represent  the  rasping  and  guttural  Arab,  the 
soft-tongued  and  languid  Balooch,  the  fiery-eyed  and  black- 
bearded  Omanee,  the  flowing-locked  and  tall-hatted  Persian, 
the  lithe,  slim-waisted  Somali,  and  at  least  a  hundred  speci- 
mens of  the  African  tribes. 

It  was  in  the  bazaars  and  shops  of  the  principal  city  that 
we  bought  the  cottons,  the  various  beads,  the  coils  of  brass 
wire,  the  tools,  cordage,  ammunition,  and  guns.  It  was  in  a 
house  at  Zanzibar  that  we  rolled  these  cloths  into  seventy- 
pound  bales,  sacked  the  beads  in  similar  weights,  packed  the 
wire,  and  boxed  the  ammunition  and  tools.  Meantime  we 
enlisted  three  hundred  and  fifty-six  chosen  fellows.  They  left 

1  Francis  and  Edward  Pocock,  who,  with  Frederick  Barker,  were  his  only  white 
companions  in  the  expedition.  All  three  did  gallant  work,  and  not  one  returned.  —  D.  S. 


THROUGH  THE   DARK  CONTINENT        299 

their  porter-work,  gossiping  in  the  bazaar,  the  care  of  their 
fields  and  gardens  without  the  town,  to  become  sworn  followers 
of  the  Anglo-American  expedition,  to  carry  its  loads  at  so 
much  per  month,  in  any  direction  on  the  mainland  I  should 
wish ;  to  stand  by  the  master  in  times  of  trouble,  to  die  with 
him,  if  necessary.  I  also,  on  my  part,  swore  to  treat  them 
kindly ;  to  medicate  them,  if  sick  or  bilious ;  to  judge  honestly 
and  impartially  between  man  and  man  in  their  little  camp 
squabbles ;  to  prevent  ill-treatment  of  the  weak  by  the  strong ; 
to  be  a  father  and  a  mother,  brother  and  sister,  to  each ;  and 
to  resist,  to  the  utmost  of  my  ability,  any  murderous  natives 
who,  encouraged  by  the  general  forbearance  of  the  white  man, 
would  feel  disposed  to  do  them  harm. 

We  call  upon  the  One,  and  Compassionate,  and  Just  God, 
to  witness  our  mutual  pledges. 

On  the  nth  of  November,  1874,  we  sail  away  from  our 
friends,  who  are  gathered  on  the  beach  at  sunset,  to  witness 
our  departure.  The  evening  breeze  sweeps  us  across  the 
Zangian  Channel.  The  shadows  of  the  night  fall  over  the 
mainland  and  the  silent  sea,  as  we  glide  on  to  the  destiny  that 
may  be  awaiting  us  in  the  Dark  Continent. 

The  next  morning  we  debarked,  and,  a  few  days  later,  took 
the  native  path  which  led  to  the  west.  I  will  not  trouble  you 
with  a  description  of  the  journeys  made  each  day.  That 
native  path,  only  a  foot  wide,  leading  westward,  presently 
entered  a  jungle,  then  traversed  a  plain,  on  which  the  sun 
shone  dazzling,  and  pitilessly  hot.  We  came  to  a  river:  it 
swarmed  with  hippopotami  and  crocodiles.  On  the  western 
bank  the  road  began  again ;  it  pierced  a  scrubby  forest, 
ascended  the  face  of  a  rising  land,  dipped  down  again  into  a 
plain ;  it  then  curved  over  a  wooded  hill,  tracks  of  game  be- 
coming numerous ;  and  so  on  it  went,  over  plain,  hill,  valley, 
through  forest  and  jungle,  cultivated  fields  of  manioc,  maize, 
and  millet,  traversing  several  countries,  such  as  Udoe,  Uru- 
guru,  Useguhha,  Usagara.  By  the  time  we  had  gone  through 
Ugogo,  we  were  rich  in  experience  of  African  troubles,  native 
arrogance,  and  unbridled  temper. 

But,  as  yet,  we  had  suffered  no  signal  misfortune.  A  few  of 
our  men  had  deserted,  one  or  two  bales  had  been  lost.  On 
leaving  Ugogo,  we  turned  north-westward,  and  entered  an 


300  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

enormous  bush-field.  No  charts  could  aid  me  to  lay  out  the 
route,  no  man  with  me  had  ever  been  in  this  region,  guides 
proved  faithless  as  soon  as  they  were  engaged.  I  always  en- 
deavoured to  secure  three  days'  provisions,  at  least,  before 
venturing  anywhere  unknown  to  the  guides.  But  three  days 
passed  away,  and  the  bush-field  spread  out  on  either  side, 
silent  and  immense.  We  had  followed  the  compass  course 
north-west,  staggering  on  blindly  under  our  heavy  loads, 
hoping,  hourly,  that  we  should  see  something  in  the  shape  of 
game,  or  signs  of  cultivation.  The  fourth  day  passed;  our 
provisions  were  exhausted,  and  we  began  to  be  anxious.  We 
had  already  travelled  eighty  miles  through  the  straggling 
jungle.  The  fifth  day  we  took  the  road  at  sunrise  and  travelled 
briskly  on,  myself  leading  the  way,  compass  in  hand,  my 
white  assistants,  the  brothers  Pocock  and  Barker,  with  a 
dozen  select  men,  as  rear-guard.  You  may  rest  assured  that 
my  eyes  travelled  around  and  in  front,  unceasingly,  in  search 
of  game.  At  noon,  we  halted  at  a  small  pond,  and  drank  its 
filthy  nitrous  water. 

About  two,  we  started  again  through  the  wilderness  of 
thorny  bush  and  rank-smelling  acacia;  the  fifth  day  ended 
with  nothing  but  our  hopes  to  feed  upon.  The  sixth,  seventh, 
and  eighth  days  passed  in  like  manner,  hoping,  ever  hoping ! 
Five  people  perished  from  absolute  starvation  during  the 
eighth  day.  On  the  ninth,  we  came  to  a  small  village;  but 
there  was  not  a  grain  to  be  bought  for  money,  or  obtained 
through  fear,  or  love,  of  us.  We  obtained  news,  however,  that 
there  was  a  large  village  a  long  day's  journey  off,  north- 
westerly. I  despatched  forty  of  the  stoutest  men  with  cloth 
and  beads  to  purchase  provisions.  Though  pinched  with 
hunger  they  reached  the  place  at  night,  and  the  next  day  the 
gallant  fellows  returned  with  eight  hundred  pounds  of  grain. 
Meantime,  those  that  remained  had  wandered  about  in  search 
of  game,  and  had  found  the  putrid  carcase  of  an  elephant,  and 
two  lion  whelps,  which  they  brought  to  me.  Finding  that  the 
pain  of  hunger  was  becoming  intolerable,  we  emptied  a  sheet- 
iron  trunk,  filled  it  three-quarters  with  water,  into  which  we 
put  ten  pounds  of  oatmeal,  four  pounds  of  lentil  flour,  four 
pounds  of  tapioca,  half  a  pound  of  salt,  out  of  which  we  made 
a  gruel.    Each  man  and  woman  within  an  hour  was  served 


THROUGH  THE  DARK  CONTINENT   301 

with  a  cupful  of  gruel.  This  was  a  great  drain  on  our  medical 
stores,  when  we  might  say  only  a  twentieth  part  of  the  journey 
had  been  performed ;  but  the  expedition  was  saved. 

The  effect  of  that  terrible  jungle  experience  was  felt  for 
many  a  day  afterwards.  Four  more  died  within  two  days, 
over  a  score  were  on  the  sick  list,  consequently,  the  riding  asses 
were  loaded  with  bales,  and  all  of  us  whites  were  obliged  to 
walk. 

Twenty-eight  miles  under  a  hot  sun  prostrated  one  of  the 
brothers  Pocock.  To  carry  him  in  a  hammock,  we  had  to 
throw  some  loads  into  the  bush,  to  relieve  the  heavily-bur- 
dened caravan.  In  this  condition  we  entered  Ituru  —  a  land 
of  naked  people,  whose  hills  drain  into  a  marsh,  whence  issue 
the  southernmost  waters  of  the  Nile.1 

A  presentiment  of  evil  depressed  all  of  us,  as  the  long  column 
of  wearied  and  sick  people  entered  Ituru.  My  people  hurried 
their  women  away  out  of  sight,  the  boys  drove  the  herds  away 
from  our  foreground  in  order  that,  if  the  looming  trouble  rup- 
tured, the  cattle  might  not  be  hurt.  By  dint  of  diplomatic 
suavity,  we  postponed  the  conflict  for  many  days.  We  gave 
presents  freely,  the  slightest  service  was  royally  rewarded. 
Though  our  hearts  were  heavy  at  the  gloomy  prescience  of 
our  minds,  we  smiled  engagingly ;  but  I  could  see  that  it  was 
of  no  use.  However,  it  deferred  the  evil.  Finally,  Edward 
Pocock  died ;  we  buried  him  in  the  midst  of  our  fenced  camp, 
and  the  poor  fisher-boy  lay  at  rest  for  ever. 

Four  days  later,  we  arrived  at  the  village  of  Vinyata.  We 
had  been  ten  days  in  the  land  of  Ituru,  and,  as  yet,  the  black 
cloud  had  not  lifted,  nor  had  it  burst.  But,  as  we  entered 
Vinyata,  a  sick  man  suffering  from  asthma  lingered  behind, 
unknown  to  the  rear-guard.  The  fell  savages  pounced  on  him, 
hacked  him  to  little  pieces,  and  scattered  them  along  the  road. 
It  was  the  evening  of  the  21st  of  January,  1875.  The  muster- 
roll  as  usual  was  read.  We  discovered  his  absence,  sent  a  body 
of  men  back  along  the  road ;  they  found  his  remains,  and  came 
back  bearing  bloody  evidences  of  the  murder. 

'Well,  what  can  I  do,  my  friends?  ' 

1  But,  master,  if  we  don't  avenge  his  death,  we  shall  have  to 

1  It  was  here,  on  this  watershed,  that  Stanley  discovered  the  southernmost  source 
of  the  Nile.  —  D.  S. 


302  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

mourn  for  a  few  more,  shortly.  These  savages  need  a  lesson. 
For  ten  days  we  have  borne  it,  expecting  every  minute  just 
what  has  happened.' 

'  It  is  I  who  suffer  most.  Don't  you  see  the  sick  are  so 
numerous  that  we  can  scarcely  move?  Now,  you  talk  of  my 
giving  a  lesson  to  these  people.  I  did  not  come  to  Africa  to 
give  such  lessons.  No,  my  friends,  we  must  bear  it;  not  only 
this,  but  perhaps  a  few  more,  if  we  are  not  careful.' 

We  fenced  the  camp  around  with  bush,  set  a  guard,  and 
rested.  Up  to  this  day  twenty  men  had  died,  eighty-nine  had 
deserted ;  there  were  two  hundred  and  forty-seven  left,  out  of 
whom  thirty  were  on  the  sick-list.  Ituru  was  populous,  and 
the  people  warlike;  two  hundred  and  seventeen  indifferent 
fighters  against  a  nation  could  do  nothing.  We  could  only 
forbear. 

We  halted  the  next  day,  and  took  advantage  of  it  to  pur- 
chase the  favour  of  the  natives.  At  night  we  thought  we  had 
succeeded.  But  the  next  day  two  brothers  went  out  into  the 
bush  to  collect  fuel :  one  was  speared  to  death,  the  other 
rushed  into  camp,  a  lance  quivering  in  his  arm,  his  body 
gashed  with  the  flying  weapons,  his  face  streaming  with  blood 
from  the  blow  of  a  whirling  knobstick.  We  were  horrified. 
He  cried  out,  '  It  is  war,  the  savages  are  coming  through  the 
bush  all  round  the  camp ! ' 

'There,  master!'  said  the  chief  men,  as  they  rushed  up  to 
assist  the  wounded  man,  '  What  said  we  ?  We  are  in  for  it,  sure 
enough,  this  time !  ' 

1  Keep  silence,'  I  said.  '  Even  for  this,  I  will  not  fight.  You 
know  not  what  you  say.  Two  lives  are  lost ;  but  that  is  small 
loss  compared  with  the  loss  of  a  hundred,  or  even  fifty.  You 
cannot  fight  a  tribe  like  this  without  paying  a  heavy  forfeit  of 
life.  I  cannot  afford  to  lose  you.  We  have  a  thousand  tribes 
to  go  through  yet,  and  you  talk  of  war  now.  Be  patient,  men, 
this  will  blow  over.' 

1  Never ! '  cried  the  men. 

While  I  was  arguing  for  peace,  the  camp  was  being  gradually 
surrounded.  As  the  savages  came  into  view,  I  sent  men  to 
talk  with  them.  It  staggered  the  natives.  They  seemed  to 
ask  one  another,  '  Have  they  not  yet  received  cause  enough 
to  fight?'    But  as  it  took  two  sides  to  fight,  and  one  was 


THROUGH  THE   DARK  CONTINENT        303 

unwilling,  it  was  influencing  them;  and  the  matter  might 
have  ended,  had  not  a  fresh  force,  remarkable  for  its  bellicose 
activity,  appeared  upon  the  scene. 

1  Master,  you  had  better  prepare ;  there  is  no  peace  with 
these  people.' 

I  gave  the  order  to  distribute  twenty  rounds  of  cartridges 
per  man,  and  enjoined  on  all  to  retire  quietly  to  their  several 
places  in  the  camp. 

My  interpreters  still  held  on  talking  soothingly,  while  I 
watched,  meanwhile,  to  note  the  slightest  event. 

Presently,  the  murderous  band  from  the  bush  south  of  our 
camp  appeared,  and  again  the  clamour  for  war  rose  loudly  on 
our  ears. 

I  disposed  two  companies  of  fifty  each  on  either  side  of  the 
gate,  to  resist  the  rush.  There  was  a  hostile  movement,  the 
interpreters  came  flying  back,  the  savages  shot  a  cloud  of 
arrows.  On  all  sides  rose  bodies  of  savages.  A  determined 
rush  was  made  for  the  gate  of  the  camp.  A  minute  later, 
firing  began,  and  the  companies  moved  forward  briskly,  fir- 
ing as  they  went.  Then  every  axe-man  was  marched  out, 
to  cut  the  bush,  and  fortify  the  camp.  The  savages  were 
driven  back  for  an  hour,  and  a  recall  was  sounded.  No  enemy 
being  in  sight,  we  occupied  ourselves  in  making  the  camp 
impregnable,  constructed  four  towers,  twenty  feet  high,  to 
command  all  sides,  and,  filling  them  with  marksmen,  waited 
events. 

The  day,  and  the  night,  passed  quietly.  Our  camp  was 
unassailable.  I  had  only  lost  two  men  so  far.  At  nine  o'clock, 
the  enemy  reappeared  in  good  order,  re-enforced  in  numbers, 
for  the  adjoining  districts  had  responded  to  the  war-cries  we 
had  heard  pealing  the  day  before.  They  advanced  confidently, 
probably  two  thousand  strong.  The  marksmen  in  the  towers 
opened  deliberately  on  them,  and  two  companies  were  marched 
out  of  camp,  and  deployed.  A  deadly  fire  was  kept  up  for  a 
few  minutes,  before  which  the  enemy  fell  back.  A  rush  was 
made  upon  them,  the  natives  fled. 

I  called  back  my  people,  and  then  formed  out  of  these  com- 
panies five  detachments  of  twenties,  each  under  a  chosen  man. 
Instructions  were  given  to  drive  the  natives  back  rapidly,  as 
far  as  possible,  a  company  of  fifty  to  follow,  and  secure  cattle, 


304  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

grain,  fowls,  and  food.  Those  remaining  behind  cleared  the 
bush  further,  so  that  we  might  have  an  open  view  two  hundred 
yards  all  around.  Until  late  in  the  afternoon  the  fighting  was 
kept  up,  messengers  keeping  me  in  contact  with  my  people. 
At  4  p.  M.,  the  enemy  having  collected  on  the  summit  of  a  hill 
several  miles  away,  my  men  retired  upon  our  camp.  Our 
losses  amounted  to  twenty-two  killed,  and  three  wounded. 
My  effective  force  now  numbered  two  hundred  and  eight. 
The  camp  was  full  of  cattle,  goats,  fowls,  milk,  and  grain.  I 
could  stand  a  siege  for  months,  if  necessary. 

The  third  morning  came.  We  waited  within  the  camp ;  but, 
at  9  A.  M.,  the  natives  advanced  as  before,  more  numerous 
than  ever.  Despite  the  losses  they  had  experienced,  they  must 
have  been  heartened  by  what  we  had  suffered.  This  explains 
their  pertinacity.  If  we  lost  twenty  each  day,  ten  days  would 
end  us  all.  It  was  thus  they  argued.  I,  on  the  other  hand,  to 
prevent  this  constant  drain,  was  resolved  to  finish  the  war 
on  this  day.  Accordingly,  when  they  appeared,  we  advanced 
upon  them  with  one  hundred  and  fifty  rifles;  and,  leaving 
only  fifty  in  the  camp,  delivered  several  volleys,  and  pursued 
them  from  village  to  village,  setting  fire  to  each  as  soon  as 
captured.  In  close  order,  we  made  the  circuit  of  the  entire 
district  of  Vinyata,  until  we  arrived  at  the  stronghold  of  the 
tribe,  on  the  summit  of  the  hill.  We  halted  a  short  time  to 
breathe,  and  then  assailed  it  by  a  rush.  The  enemy  fled  pre- 
cipitately, and  we  returned  to  camp,  having  lost  but  two 
killed  throughout  the  arduous  day. 

There  only  remained  for  me  to  re-arrange  the  caravan. 
January,  1875,  nad  been  a  disastrous  month  to  us !  Altogether, 
nine  had  perished  from  hunger  in  the  wilderness  of  Uveriveri ; 
in  Ituru,  twenty-six  had  been  speared  in  battle;  five  had  died 
by  disease,  the  consequence  of  the  misery  of  the  period ;  on  my 
hands  I  had  four  wounded,  and  twenty-five  feeble  wretches 
scarcely  able  to  walk.  I  had  thus  lost  a  fourth  of  my  effect- 
ive force,  with  nearly  seven  thousand  miles  of  a  journey  still 
before  me ! 

Suppressing  my  grief  as  much  as  possible,  I  set  about  re- 
ducing the  baggage,  and  burnt  every  possible  superfluous 
article.  I  clung  to  my  boat  and  every  stick  of  it,  though  sorely 
tempted.   The  boat  required  thirty  of  the  strongest  men  for 


THROUGH  THE   DARK  CONTINENT        305 

its  carriage.    Personal  baggage,  luxuries,  books,  cloth,  beads, 
wire,  extra  tents,  were  freely  sacrificed. 

At  day-break,  on  the  26th  of  January,  we  departed,  every 
riding  ass,  and  all  chiefs  and  supernumeraries,  being  employed 
as  porters.  We  entered  a  forest,  and  emerged  from  it  three 
days  later,  in  the  friendly  and  hospitable  land  of  Usukuma. 
Our  booty  in  bullocks  and  goats  sufficed  to  enlist  over  a  hun- 
dred fresh  carriers.  After  a  halt,  to  recover  from  our  wounds 
and  fatigues,  I  turned  northward  through  a  gracious  land, 
whence  issued  the  smell  of  cattle  and  sweet  grass,  a  land 
abounding  with  milk  and  plenty,  where  we  enjoyed  perfect 
immunity  from  trouble  of  any  kind.  Each  day  saw  us  wind- 
ing up  and  down  its  grassy  vales  and  gentle  hills,  escorted  by 
hundreds  of  amiable  natives.  Everywhere  we  were  received 
with  a  smiling  welcome  by  the  villagers,  who  saw  us  depart- 
ing with  regret.  '  Come  yet  again,'  said  they ;  '  come,  always 
assured  of  welcome.' 

With  scarcely  one  drawback  to  our  pleasure,  we  arrived  on 
the  shores  of  the  Victoria  Nyanza,  on  the  one  hundred  and 
fourth  day  from  the  sea,  after  a  journey  of  seven  hundred  and 
twenty  miles. 

Sixteen  years  and  seven  months  previous  to  our  arrival  at 
the  lake,  Captain  Speke  had  viewed  it  from  a  point  just  twelve 
miles  west  of  my  camp.  Reflecting  on  the  vast  expanse  of 
water  before  him,  Speke  said,  T  no  longer  felt  any  doubt  that 
the  lake  at  my  feet  gave  birth  to  that  interesting  river,  the 
source  of  which  has  been  the  subject  of  so  much  speculation, 
and  the  obj ect  of  so  many  explorers.'  This  bold  hypothesis  was 
warmly  disputed  by  many,  principally  by  his  fellow-explorer, 
Captain  Burton.  This  led  to  Speke  making  a  second  expedi- 
tion, with  Captain  Grant  for  a  companion,  during  which  he 
saw  a  great  deal  of  its  western,  and  half  of  its  northern  shores, 
from  prominent  points  as  he  travelled  overland.  Captain 
Burton  and  his  brother  theorists  declined  to  be  satisfied; 
consequently,  it  was  interesting  to  know,  by  actual  survey, 
what  was  the  character  of  this  Victoria  Nyanza.  Was  it  really 
one  lake,  or  a  cluster  of  shallow  lakes  or  marshes? 

I  had  thought  there  could  be  no  better  way  of  settling,  once 
and  for  ever,  the  vexed  question,  than  by  the  circumnaviga- 
tion of  the  lake,  or  lakes.  For  that  purpose  I  had  brought  with 


306  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

me  from  England,  in  sections,  a  cedar  boat,  forty  feet  long, 
and  six  feet  beam. 

Of  course,  all  my  people  knew  the  object  of  the  boat,  but 
when  I  asked  for  volunteers  to  man  it  for  the  voyage,  they  all 
assumed  a  look  of  wonder,  as  though  the  matter  had  dawned 
on  their  minds  for  the  first  time ! 

1  Where  are  the  brave  fellows  who  are  to  be  my  compan- 
ions? '  I  asked. 

There  wras  a  dead  silence ;  the  men  gazed  at  one  another  and 
stupidly  scratched  their  hips. 

'  You  know,  I  cannot  go  alone ! ' 

Their  eyes  travelled  over  one  another's  faces;  they  had 
suddenly  become  blank-faced  mutes. 

1  You  see  the  beautiful  boat,  made  in  England,  safe  as  a  ship, 
swift  as  a  sea-bird.  We  shall  stow  plenty  of  chop ;  we  will  lie 
lazily  down  on  the  thwarts ;  the  winds  will  bear  us  gaily  along. 
Let  my  braves  step  out ;  those  men  who  will  dare  accompany 
their  master  round  this  sea.' 

Up,  and  down,  their  eyes  traversed  each  other's  forms,  and, 
finally,  became  fixed  on  their  feet. 

'  Come,  come ;  this  will  not  do.   Will  you  join  me?  ' 

'Ah,  master,  I  cannot  row.  I  am  a  land-lubber.  My  back 
is  as  strong  as  a  camel's.  There  is  no  one  like  me  for  the  road ; 
but  the  sea !  —  Uh  !  uh  !  the  water  is  only  fit  for  fishes,  and  I 
am  a  son  of  the  firm  earth ! ' 

1  Will  you  join  me,  my  boy?  ' 

1  Dear  master,  you  know  I  am  your  slave,  and  you  are  my 
prince ;  but,  master,  look  at  the  great  waves !  —  Boo !  boo ! 
all  the  time !  —  Please,  master,  excuse  me  this  time.  I  will 
never  do  it  again.' 

'  Will  you  go  with  me,  to  live  a  pleasant  month  on  the  sea?  ' 

1  Ha !  ha !  good  master,  you  are  joking !  Who ?  I  ?  I,  who  am 
the  son  of  Abdallah,  who  was  the  son  of  Nasib !  Surely,  my 
master,  my  hamal's  back  was  made  to  carry  loads!  I  am  a 
donkey  for  that,  but  you  cannot  make  a  sailor  of  a  donkey ! ' 

1  Will  you  come  with  me  ?  I  have  had  my  eye  on  you  for  a 
long  time? ' 

1  Where  to,  master?  '  he  asked  innocently. 

1  Why,  round  this  sea,  of  course,  in  my  boat ! ' 

1  Ah,  sir,  put  your  hand  on  my  breast.  You  feel  the  thump- 


THROUGH  THE  DARK  CONTINENT        307 

ing  of  the  heart.  A  mere  look  at  the  sea  always  sends  it 
bounding  that  way.  Pray  don't  kill  me,  master,  that  sea 
would  be  my  grave ! ' 

'So!  you  are  donkeys,  eh?  camels?  land-lubbers?  hamals 
only,  eh  ?  Well,  we  will  try  another  plan !  Here,  you  sir,  I 
like  you,  a  fine,  handsome,  light  weight !  Step  into  that  boat ; 
and  you,  you  look  like  a  born  sailor,  follow  him ;  and  you  — 
heavens !  what  a  back  and  muscles !  You  shall  try  them  on  the 
oars !  And  you,  a  very  lion  in  the  fight  at  Ituru  !  I  love  lions, 
and  you  shall  roar  with  me  to  the  wild  waves  of  the  Nyanza ! 
And  you,  the  springing  antelope,  ha!  ha!  you  shall  spring 
with  me  over  the  foaming  surge ! '  I  selected  eleven.  '  Oh,  you 
young  fellows,  I  will  make  sailors  of  you,  never  fear!  Get 
ready,  we  must  be  off  within  an  hour.'  -^ 

We  set  sail  on  the  8th  of  March.  The  sky  was  gloomy.  The 
lake  reflected  its  gloom,  and  was  of  the  colour  of  ashy-grey. 
The  shores  were  stern  and  rugged.  My  crew  sighed  dolorously, 
and  rowed  like  men  bound  to  certain  death,  often  casting 
wistful  looks  at  me,  as  though  I  shared  their  doubts,  and 
would  order  a  return,  and  confess  that  the  preparations  were 
only  an  elaborate  joke.  Five  miles  beyond  our  port  we  halted 
for  the  night  at  a  fishing-village.  A  native  —  shock-headed, 
ugly,  loutish,  and  ungainly  in  movement  —  agreed,  for  a 
consideration,  to  accompany  us  as  pilot  and  interpreter  of 
lake  dialects.  The  next  day,  steering  eastward,  we  sailed  at 
early  dawn.  At  11  A.  m.,  a  gale  blew,  and  the  lake  became 
wild  beyond  description.  We  scudded  before  the  tempest, 
while  it  sang  in  our  ears  and  deafened  us  with  its  tumult. 
The  waves  hissed  as  we  tore  along;  leaping  seas  churned 
white,  racing  with  us  and  clashing  their  tops  with  loud,  en- 
gulfing sounds.  The  crew  collapsed,  and  crouched  with  staring 
eyes  into  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and  expected  each  upward 
heave,  and  sudden  fall  into  the  troughs,  to  be  the  end  of  the 
wild  venture;  but  the  boat,  though  almost  drowned  by  the 
spray  and  foam,  dashed  gaily  along,  until,  about  three  o'clock, 
we  swept  round  to  the  lee  of  an  island,  and  floated  into  a 
bay  let,  still  as  a  pond.  We  coasted  around  the  indented  shores 
of  Speke  Gulf,  and  touched  at  Ukerewe,  where  our  guide 
had  many  friends,  who  told  us,  for  the  exceeding  comfort  of 
my  crew,  that  it  would  take  years  to  sail  around  their  sea ;  and 


308  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

who,  at  that  time,  would  be  left  alive  to  tell  the  tale?  On  its 
shores  dwelt  a  people  with  long  tails ;  there  was  a  tribe  which 
trained  big  dogs  for  purposes  of  war ;  there  were  people,  also, 
who  preferred  to  feed  on  human  beings,  rather  than  on  cattle 
or  goats.  My  young  sailors  were  exceedingly  credulous.  Our 
mop-headed  guide  and  pilot  grunted  his  terror,  and  sought 
every  opportunity  to  escape  the  doom  which  we  were  hurrying 
to  meet. 

From  Ukerewe  we  sailed  by  the  picturesque  shores  of  Wye ; 
thence  along  the  coast  of  populous  Ururi,  whence  the  fisher- 
men, hailed  by  us  as  we  glided  by,  bawled  out  to  us  that 
we  should  be  eight  years  on  the  voyage.  We  were  frequently 
chased  by  hippopotami ;  crocodiles  suddenly  rose  alongside, 
and  floated  for  a  moment  side  by  side,  as  though  to  take  the 
measure  of  our  boat's  length.  As  we  sailed  by  the  coast  of 
Irirui,  large  herds  of  cattle  were  seen  browsing  on  green  herb- 
age ;  the  natives  of  Utiri  fell  into  convulsions  of  laughter  as 
they  looked  on  the  novel  method  of  rowing  adopted  by  us. 
When  we  hoisted  the  sail,  they  ceased  mocking  us  and  ran 
away  in  terror.   Then  we  laughed  at  them !] 

Beyond  Utiri  loomed  the  dark  mountainous  mass  of 
Ugeyeya ;  to  the  west  of  it,  grim  and  lofty,  frowned  the  island 
of  Uguigo.  Grey  rocky  islets  studded  the  coast.  By  swelling 
and  uneven  lines  of  hills,  gentle  slopes  all  agreen  with  young 
grass,  on  which  many  herds  and  flocks  industriously  fed,  past 
many  a  dark  headland,  and  cliffy  walls  of  rock,  and  lovely 
bays,  edged  by  verdure  and  forest,  and  cosy  lake-ports,  the 
boat  sailed  day  after  day,  some  curious  adventure  marking 
each  day's  voyage,  until  the  boat's  head  was  turned  westward. 

While  close  to  the  shore  of  Ugamba,  a  war-canoe  manned  by 
forty  paddlers  drew  near  to  us.  When  within  fifty  yards,  most 
of  them  dropped  their  paddles  and  flourished  tufted  lances 
and  shields.  We  sat  still ;  they  wheeled  round  us,  defyingly 
shaking  their  spears;  they  edged  nearer,  and  ranged  their 
canoe  alongside.  Lamb-like,  we  gazed  on  them ;  they  bullied 
us,  and  laid  their  hands  on  everything  within  reach.  We 
smiled  placidly,  for  resentment  we  had  none.  We  even  per- 
mitted them  to  handle  our  persons  freely.  Tired  with  that, 
they  seized  their  slings  and  tried  to  terrify  us  with  the  whiz 
of  the  stones,  which  flew  by  our  heads  dangerously  near. 


THROUGH  THE   DARK  CONTINENT        309 

They  then  chanted  a  war-song,  and  one,  cheered  by  the 
sound,  became  bolder,  and  whirled  a  rock  at  my  head.  I  fired 
a  revolver  into  the  water,  and  the  warriors  at  once  sprang 
into  the  lake  and  dived,  as  though  in  search  of  the  bullet. 
Not  finding  it,  I  suppose,  they  swam  away,  and  left  the  fine 
canoe  in  our  hands ! 

We  were  delighted,  of  course,  at  the  fun ;  we  begged  them 
to  come  back.  After  much  coaxing,  they  returned  and  got 
into  their  canoe.  We  spoke  —  oh,  so  blandly !  —  to  them. 
They  were  respectful,  but  laughed  as  they  thought  of  the 
boom,  boom,  boom,  of  the  pistol.  They  gave  me  a  bunch  of 
bananas,  and  we  mutually  admired  one  another.  At  last  we 
parted. 

Another  gale  visited  us  at  Usuguru,  blowing  as  though 
from  above.  Its  force  seemed  to  compress  the  water ;  repelled 
by  the  weightier  element,  it  brushed  its  face  into  millions  of 
tiny  ripples.  Suddenly,  the  temperature  fell  200;  hailstones  / 
as  large  as  filberts  pelted  us ;  and,  for  fully  ten  minutes,  we 
cowered  under  the  icy  shower.  Then  such  tropical  torrents 
of  rain  poured,  that  every  utensil  was  employed  to  bale  the 
boat  to  prevent  foundering.  The  deluge  lasted  for  hours,  but 
near  night  we  uncovered,  baled  the  boat  dry,  and  crept  for 
refuge,  through  the  twilight,  into  a  wild  arbour  on  an  island, 
there  to  sleep. 

A  few  days  later,  we  coasted  by  the  island  of  Wavuma. 
Five  piratical  craft  came  up,  and  we  behaving,  as  we  always 
did,  in  that  lackadaisical,  so  fatally-encouraging  manner, 
they  became  rude,  insolent,  and,  finally,  belligerent.  Of  course, 
it  resulted  in  a  violent  rupture ;  there  was  an  explosion,  one 
of  their  canoes  sank,  and  then  we  had  peace,  and  sailed  away. 
We  were  on  the  Equator  now.  We  cut  across  the  Napoleon 
Channel,  through  which  the  superfluous  waters  of  the  lake 
flow.  At  the  northern  end  they  abruptly  fall  about  eight  feet, 
and  then  rush  northward  as  the  Victoria  Nile. 

On  the  western  side  of  the  channel  is  Uganda,  dominated 
by  a  prince,  entitled  Kabaka,  or  Emperor.  He  is  supreme 
over  about  three  millions  of  people,  not  quite  so  degraded  or 
barbarous  as  those  we  had  hitherto  viewed.  He  soon  heard  of 
the  presence  of  my  boat  on  the  lake,  and  despatched  a  flotilla 
to  meet  me.    Strangely  enough,  the  Emperor's  mother  had 


310  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

dreamed  the  night  before  that  she  had  seen  a  boat  sailing, 
sailing,  like  a  fish-eagle,  over  the  Nyanza.  In  the  stern  of  the 
boat  was  a  white  man  gazing  wistfully  towards  Uganda. 

The  dream  of  the  Imperial  lady  is  no  sooner  told,  than  a 
breathless  messenger  appears  at  the  palace  gate  and  informs 
the  astonished  Court  that  he  had  seen  a  boat,  with  white  wings 
like  those  of  the  fish-eagle,  skimming  along  the  shores,  and  at 
the  after-end  of  the  boat  there  was  a  white  man,  scrutinizing 
the  land ! 

Such  a  man  as  this,  who  sends  visions  to  warn  an  Empress 
of  his  approach,  must  needs  be  great !  Let  worthy  prepara- 
tions be  made  at  once,  and  send  a  flotilla  to  greet  him ! 

Hence,  the  commodore  of  the  flotilla,  on  meeting  with  me, 
uses  words  which  astonish  me  by  their  courtly  sound ;  and, 
following  in  the  wake  of  the  canoes,  we  sail  towards  Usavara, 
where,  I  am  told,  the  Emperor  of  Uganda  awaits  me. 

We  see  thousands  of  people  arranging  themselves  in  order, 
as  we  come  in  view  of  the  immense  camp.  The  crews  in  the 
canoes  fire  volleys  of  musketry,  which  are  answered  by  volleys 
from  shore.  Kettle  and  bass-drums  thunder  out  a  welcome, 
flags  and  banners  are  waved,  and  the  people  vent  a  great 
shout. 

The  boat's  keel  grided  on  the  beach ;  I  leapt  out,  to  meet 
several  deeply-bowing  officials ;  they  escorted  me  to  a  young 
man  standing  under  an  enormous  crimson  flag,  and  clad  like 
an  Arab  gentleman,  the  Katekiro,  or  Prime  Minister,  Ah.  I 
bowed  profoundly ;  he  imitated  the  bow,  but  added  to  it  a 
courteous  wave  of  the  hand.  Then  the  courtiers  came  forward 
and  greeted  me  in  the  Zanzibar  language.  'A  welcome,  a 
thousand  welcomes  to  the  Kabaka's  guest ! '  was  cried  on 
all  sides. 

I  was  escorted  to  my  quarters.  Hosts  of  questions  were 
fired  off  at  me,  about  my  health,  journey,  Zanzibar,  Europe 
and  its  nations,  the  oceans,  and  the  heavens,  the  sun,  moon, 
and  stars,  angels,  demons,  doctors  and  priests,  and  craftsmen 
in  general.  I  answered  to  the  best  of  my  power,  and,  in  one 
hour  and  ten  minutes,  it  was  declared  unanimously  that  I  had 
passed ! 

In  the  afternoon,  after  receiving  a  present  of  fourteen  oxen, 
sixteen  goats  and  sheep,  a  hundred  bunches  of  bananas,  three 


THROUGH   THE   DARK  CONTINENT        311 

dozen  fowls,  four  jars  of  milk,  four  baskets  of  sweet  potatoes, 
a  basket  of  rice,  twenty  fresh  eggs,  and  ten  pots  full  of  banana 
wine,  —  which  you  must  admit  was  an  imperial  gift  for  a 
boat's  crew  and  one  white  man,  —  and  after  I  had  bathed  and 
brushed,  I  was  introduced  to  the  foremost  man  of  Equatorial 
Africa.  Preceded  by  pages  in  white  cotton  robes,  I  was 
ushered  into  the  Imperial  Presence  through  a  multitude  of 
chiefs,  ranked  in  kneeling  or  seated  lines,  drummers,  guards, 
executioners,  and  pages. 

The  tall,  clean-faced,  and  large-lustrous-eyed  Mtesa  rose, 
advanced,  and  shook  hands.  I  was  invited  to  be  seated ;  and 
then  there  followed  a  mutual  inspection.  We  talked  about 
many  things,  principally  about  Europe  and  Heaven.  The 
inhabitants  of  the  latter  place  he  was  very  anxious  about,  and 
was  specially  interested  in  the  nature  of  angels.  Ideas  of 
those  celestial  spirits,  picked  up  from  the  Bible,  Paradise 
Lost,  Michael  Angelo,  and  Gustave  Dore,  enabled  me  to 
describe  them  in  bright  and  warm  colours.  Led  away  by  my 
enthusiasm,  I  may  have  exaggerated  somewhat !  However, 
I  was  rewarded  with  earnest  attention,  and,  I  do  believe, 
implicit  belief ! 

Every  day  while  I  stayed,  the  'barzah'  was  kept  up  with 
ceremony.  One  afternoon  Mtesa  said,  'Standee,  I  want  you 
to  show  my  women  how  white  men  can  shoot.'  (There  were 
about  nine  hundred  of  them.) 

We  adjourned  the  barzah,  and  proceeded  to  the  lake  shore. 
The  ladies  formed  a  crescent  line,  Mtesa  in  the  midst,  and 
amused  themselves  by  criticising  my  personal  appearance  — 
not  unfavourably,  I  hope!  It  was,  'Stamlee  is  this,'  and 
'Stamlee  is  that,'  from  nine  hundred  pairs  of  lips.  There  was 
at  first  a  buzz,  then  it  grew  into  a  rippling  murmur ;  hundreds 
of  lips  covered  and  uncovered,  alternately,  dazzling  white 
teeth ;  the  Equatorial  stars  were  not  half  so  brilliant  as  the 
beautiful  and  lustrous  jet-black  eyes  that  reflected  the  merri- 
ness  of  the  hearts.  An  admiral  with  a  fleet  of  canoes  searched 
for  a  crocodile,  at  which  I  might  take  aim.  They  discovered  a 
small  specimen,  sleeping  on  a  rock  at  the  distance  of  a  hundred 
yards. 

To  represent  all  the  sons  of  Japhet  was  a  great  responsi- 
bility ;  but  I  am  happy  to  say  that  my  good  luck  did  not  desert 


312  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

me.  The  head  of  the  young  reptile  was  nearly  severed  from 
the  body  by  a  three-ounce  ball,  and  this  feat  was  accepted  as  a 
conclusive  and  undeniable  proof  that  all  white  men  were  dead 
shots ! 

In  person,  Mtesa  is  slender  and  tall,  probably  six  feet  one 
inch  in  height.  He  has  very  intelligent  and  agreeable  features, 
which  remind  me  of  some  of  the  faces  of  the  great  stone  images 
at  Thebes,  and  of  the  statues  in  the  Museum  at  Cairo.  He  has 
the  same  fulness  of  lips,  but  their  grossness  is  relieved  by  the 
general  expression  of  amiability,  blended  with  dignity,  that 
pervades  his  face,  and  the  large,  lustrous,  lambent  eyes  that 
lend  it  a  strange  beauty,  and  are  typical  of  the  race  from  which 
I  believe  him  to  have  sprung.  His  face  is  of  a  wonderfully 
smooth  surface. 

When  not  engaged  in  council,  he  throws  off,  unreservedly, 
the  bearing  that  distinguishes  him  when  on  the  throne,  and 
gives  rein  to  his  humour,  indulging  in  hearty  peals  of  laughter. 
He  seems  to  be  interested  in  the  discussion  of  the  manners  and 
customs  of  European  courts,  and  to  be  enamoured  of  hearing 
of  the  wonders  of  civilisation.  He  is  ambitious  to  imitate,  as 
much  as  lies  in  his  power,  the  ways  of  the  European.  When 
any  piece  of  information  is  given  him,  he  takes  upon  him- 
self the  task  of  translating  it  to  his  wives  and  chiefs,  though 
many  of  the  latter  understand  the  language  of  the  East  Coast 
as  well  as  he  does  himself. 

Though  at  this  period  I  only  stayed  with  him  about  twelve 
days,  as  I  was  anxious  about  my  camp  at  Kagehyi,  yet  the 
interest  I  conceived  for  the  Emperor  and  his  people  at  this 
early  stage  was  very  great.  He  himself  was  probably  the 
main  cause  of  this.  The  facility  with  which  he  comprehended 
what  was  alluded  to  in  conversation,  the  eagerness  of  his 
manner,  the  enthusiasm  he  displayed  when  the  wonders  of 
civilisation  were  broached  to  him,  tempted  me  to  introduce 
the  subject  of  Christianity,  and  I  delayed  my  departure  from 
Uganda  much  longer  than  prudence  counselled,  to  impress  the 
first  rudimentary  lessons  on  his  mind. 

I  did  not  attempt  to  confuse  him  with  any  particular  doc- 
trine, nor  did  I  broach  abtruse  theological  subjects,  which  I 
knew  would  only  perplex  him.  The  simple  story  of  the  Crea- 
tion as  related  by  Moses,  the  revelation  of  God's  power  to  the 


THROUGH  THE  DARK  CONTINENT    313 

Israelites,  their  delivery  from  the  Egyptians,  the  wonderful 
miracles  He  wrought  in  behalf  of  the  children  of  Abraham,  the 
appearance  of  prophets  at  various  times  foretelling  the  coming 
of  Christ;  the  humble  birth  of  the  Messiah,  His  wonderful 
life,  woeful  death,  and  the  triumphant  resurrection,  —  were 
themes  so  captivating  to  the  intelligent  pagan,  that  little 
public  business  was  transacted,  and  the  seat  of  justice  was 
converted  into  an  alcove  where  only  the  religious  and  moral 
law  was  discussed. 

But  I  must  leave  my  friend  Mtesa,  and  his  wonderful  court, 
and  the  imperial  capital,  Rubaga,  for  other  scenes. 

Ten  days  after  we  left  the  genial  court,  I  came  upon  the 
scene  of  a  tragedy,  which  was  commented  upon  in  Parliament. 
We  were  coasting  the  eastern  side  of  a  large  island,  looking 
for  a  port  where  we  could  put  in  to  purchase  provisions.  We 
had  already  been  thirty-six  hours  without  food,  and  though 
the  people  on  the  neighbouring  main  were  churlish,  I  hoped 
the  islanders  would  be  more  amenable  to  reason  and  kindly 
largesse  of  cloth.  Herds  of  cattle  grazed  on  the  surrunit  and 
slopes  of  the  island  hills;  plantations  of  bananas,  here  and 
there,  indicated  abundance.  As  we  rowed  along  the  shore,  a 
few  figures  emerged  from  the  shades  of  the  frondent  groves. 
They  saw  us  rowing,  and  raised  the  war-cry  in  long-drawn, 
melodious  notes.  It  drew  numbers  out  of  the  villages;  they 
were  seen  gathering  from  summit,  hollow,  and  slope.  Besides 
the  fierce  shouting,  their  manner  was  not  reassuring.  But 
hungry  as  we  were,  and  not  knowing  whither  to  turn  to  obtain 
supplies,  this  manifest  hostility  we  thought  would  moderate 
after  a  closer  acquaintance. 

We  pulled  gently  round  a  point  to  a  baylet.  The  natives 
followed  our  movements,  poising  their  spears,  stringing  their 
bows,  picking  out  the  best  rocks  for  their  slings.  Observing 
them  persistent  in  hostile  preparations,  we  ceased  rowing  about 
fifty  yards  from  the  shore.  The  interpreter  with  the  mop  head 
was  requested  to  speak  to  the  natives.  You  can  imagine  how 
he  pleaded,  hunger  inspiring  his  eloquence !  The  poised  spears 
were  lowered,  the  ready  rocks  were  dropped,  and  they  invited 
us  by  signs  with  open  palms  to  advance  without  fear.  We 
were  thirteen  souls,  including  myself;  they  between  three  and 
four  hundred.    Prudence  advised  retreat,  hunger   impelled 


3i4  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

us  on;  the  islanders  also  invited  us.  Wisdom  is  a  thing  of 
exceedingly  slow  growth ;  had  we  been  wise,  we  should  have 
listened  to  the  counsels  of  prudence. 

'It  is  almost  always  the  case,  master/  said  Safeni,  the  cox- 
swain. '  These  savages  cry  out  and  threaten,  and  talk  big ;  but, 
you  will  see,  these  people  will  become  fast  friends  with  us. 
Besides,  if  we  leave  here  without  food,  where  shall  we  get 
any?  '  At  the  same  time,  without  waiting  for  orders,  four  men 
nearest  the  bow  dipped  their  oars  into  the  water,  and  gently 
moved  the  boat  nearer. 

Seeing  the  boat  advance,  the  natives  urged  us  to  be  without 
fear.  They  smiled,  entered  the  water  up  to  their  hips,  held 
out  inviting  hands.  They  called  us  'brothers/  'friends/  'good 
fellows.'  This  conquered  our  reluctance;  the  crew  shot  the 
boat  towards  the  natives;  their  hands  closed  on  her  firmly; 
they  ran  with  her  to  the  shore;  as  many  as  could  lay  hold 
assisted,  and  dragged  her  high  and  dry  about  twenty  yards 
from  the  lake. 

Then  ensued  a  scene  of  rampant  wildness  and  hideous 
ferocity  of  action  beyond  description.  The  boat  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  forest  of  spears,  over  fifty  bows  were  bent  nearly 
double,  with  levelled  arrows,  over  two  hundred  swart  demons 
contended  as  to  who  should  deliver  the  first  blow.  When  this 
outbreak  first  took  place,  I  had  sprung  up  to  kill  and  be  killed, 
a  revolver  in  each  hand ;  but,  as  I  rose  to  my  feet,  the  utter 
hopelessness  of  our  situation  was  revealed  to  me  —  a  couple 
of  mitrailleuses  only  could  have  quenched  their  ferocious  fury. 
We  resigned  ourselves  to  the  tempest  of  shrieking  rage  with 
apparent  indifference.  This  demeanour  was  not  without  its 
effect;  the  delirious  fury  subsided.  Our  interpreter  spoke, 
our  coxswain  pleaded  with  excellent  pantomime,  and,  with 
Kiganda  words,  explained;  but  the  arrival  of  fifty  new- 
comers kindled  anew  the  tumult ;  it  increased  to  the  perilous 
verge  of  murder.  The  coxswain  was  pushed  headlong  into  the 
boat;  Kirango's  head  received  a  sounding  thwack  from  a 
lance-staff;  a  club  came  down  heartily  on  the  back  of  my 
mop-headed  guide.  I  grinned  fiendishly,  I  fear,  because  they 
deserved  it  for  urging  me  to  such  a  hell. 

I  had  presently  to  grin  another  way,  for  a  gang  paid  their 
attentions  to  me.   They  mistook  my  hair  for  a  wig,  and  at- 


THROUGH  THE  DARK  CONTINENT    315 

tempted  to  pull  it  off.  They  gave  it  a  wrench  until  the  scalp 
tingled.  Unresisting,  I  submitted  to  their  abuse.  But,  though 
I  was  silent,  I  thought  a  great  deal,  and  blessed  them  in  my 
heart. 

After  a  little  while  they  seized  our  oars  —  our  legs,  as  they 
called  them.  The  boat  would  lie  helpless  in  their  power,  they 
thought.  The  natives  took  position  on  a  small  eminence  about 
two  hundred  yards  away,  to  hold  a  palaver.  It  was  a  slow 
affair.  They  lunched  and  drank  wine.  At  3  p.  m.,  drums  were 
beaten  for  muster.  A  long  line  of  natives  appeared  in  war 
costume.  All  had  smeared  their  faces  with  black  and  white 
pigments.  The  most  dull-witted  amongst  us  knew  what  it 
portended ! 

A  tall  young  fellow  came  bounding  down  the  hill  and 
pounced  upon  our  Kiganda  drum.  It  was  only  a  curio  we  had 
picked  up ;  we  let  them  have  it.  Before  going  away  he  said, 
'  If  you  are  men,  prepare  to  fight.' 

'Good,'  I  said;  'the  sentence  is  given,  suspense  is  over. 
Boys,'  I  said,  'if  I  try  to  save  you,  will  you  give  me  absolute 
submission,  unwavering  obedience?  —  no  arguing  or  reason- 
ing, but  prompt,  unhesitating  compliance?' 

1  Yes,  we  will ;  we  swear !  ' 

1  Do  you  think  you  can  push  this  boat  into  the  water?' 

'  Yes.' 

1  Just  as  she  is,  with  all  her  goods  in  her,  before  those  men 
can  reach  us?' 

'Yes,  certainly.' 

'Stand  by,  then.  Range  yourselves  on  both  sides  of  the 
boat,  carelessly.  Each  of  you  find  out  exactly  where  you  shall 
lay  hold.  I  will  load  my  guns.  Safeni,  take  these  cloths  on 
your  arm,  walk  up  towards  the  men  on  the  hill ;  open  out  the 
cloths  one  by  one,  you  know,  as  though  you  were  admiring 
the  pattern.  But  keep  your  ears  open.  When  I  call  out  to 
you,  throw  the  cloths  away  and  fly  to  us,  or  your  death  will 
lie  on  your  own  head  !   Do  you  understand  ?  ' 

'Perfectly,  master.' 

'Then  go.' 

Meantime,  I  loaded  my  guns,  my  elephant-rifle,  double- 
barrelled  shot-gun,  Winchester  repeater,  and  two  or  three 
Sniders  belonging  to  the  men. 


316  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

1  Lay  hold  firmly,  boys ;  break  the  boat  rather  than  stop.  It 
is  life  or  death.' 

Safeni  was  about  fifty  yards  off;  the  natives'  eyes  were 
fastened  on  him,  wondering  why  he  came. 

'Now,  boys,  ready?' 

1  Ready !  please  God,  master ! ' 

1  Push !  push,  Saramba,  Kirango !  Push,  you  villain, 
Baraka.' 

'Aye,  aye,  sir!  push  it  is.' 

The  boat  moved,  the  crew  drove  her  sternward,  her  keel 
ploughing  through  the  gravel,  and  crunching  through  the 
stony  beach.   We  were  nearing  the  lake. 

1  Hurrah,  boys !  Push,  you  scoundrels !  Ha !  the  natives  see 
you  !  They  are  coming !  Safeni !  Safeni !  Safeni !  Push,  boys, 
the  natives  are  on  you !  ' 

Safeni  heard,  and  came  racing  towards  us.  The  boat  glided 
into  the  water,  and  carried  the  crew  with  her  far  out  with  the 
impetus  with  which  she  was  launched.  'Swim  away  with  her, 
boys,  don't  stop!  ' 

Alas  for  Safeni ! 

A  tall  native  who  bounds  over  the  ground  like  a  springbok, 
poises  his  spear  for  a  cast.  The  balanced  spear  was  about 
to  fly  —  I  could  not  lose  my  man  —  I  fired.  The  bullet  per- 
forated him,  and  flew  through  a  second  man. 

'  Jump,  Safeni,  head  first  into  the  lake ! '  The  bowmen  came 
to  the  lake,  and  drew  their  bows ;  the  Winchester  repeater 
dropped  them  steadily.  The  arrows  pierced  the  boat  and  mast, 
and  quivered  in  the  stern  behind  me.  One  only  drew  blood 
from  me.  When  we  had  got  one  hundred  yards  from  the  shore, 
the  arrows  were  harmless.  I  lifted  a  man  into  the  boat,  he  as- 
sisted the  rest.  We  stopped  for  Safeni,  and  drew  him  safely  in. 
The  natives  manned  four  canoes.  My  crew  were  told  to 
tear  the  bottom-boards  of  the  boat  up  for  paddles.  The 
canoes  advancing  fiercely  on  us,  we  desisted  from  paddling. 
I  loaded  my  elephant-rifle  with  explosive  bullets,  and  when 
the  foremost  canoe  was  about  eighty  yards  off,  took  deliber- 
ate aim  at  a  spot  in  it  between  wind  and  water.  The  shell 
struck,  and  tore  a  large  fragment  from  the  brittle  wood.  The 
canoe  sank.  Another  canoe  soon  after  met  the  same  fate ;  the 
others  returned.   We  were  saved ! 


THROUGH  THE  DARK  CONTINENT        317 

After  being  seventy-six  hours  without  food,  we  reached 
Refuge  Island.  We  shot  some  ducks,  and  discovered  some 
wild  fruit.  Delicious  evening,  —  how  we  enjoyed  it!  The 
next  day  we  made  new  oars;  and,  finally,  after  fifty-seven 
days'  absence  from  our  camp,  relieved  our  anxious  people. 

'But  where  is  Barker?'  I  asked  Frank  Pocock. 

'He  died  twelve  days  ago,  sir,  and  lies  there,'  pointing  to  a 
new  mound  of  earth  near  the  landing-place. 

I  must  pass  briefly  over  many  months,  replete  with  ad- 
ventures, sorrow,  suffering,  perils  by  flood  and  field.  Within 
a  few  weeks,  the  King  of  Ukerewe  having  furnished  me  with 
canoes,  I  transported  the  expedition  across  the  lake  from  its 
south-eastern  to  its  north-western  extremity,  with  a  view  to 
explore  Lake  Albert.  In  passing  by  the  pirate  island  of  Bum- 
bireh,  the  natives  again  challenged  us  to  pass  by  them  without 
their  permission ;  and  as  that  permission  would  not  be  given,  I 
attacked  the  island,  capturing  the  King  and  two  of  the  princi- 
pal chiefs,  and  passed  on  to  Uganda. 

Before  I  could  obtain  any  assistance  from  Mtesa,  I  had  to 
visit  him  once  again.  Being  at  war  with  the  Wavuma,  he 
detained  me  several  months. 

The  good  work  I  had  commenced  was  resumed.  I  trans- 
lated for  him  sufficient  out  of  the  Bible  to  form  an  abridged 
sacred  history,  wherein  the  Gospel  of  St.  Luke  was  given 
entire. 

When  my  work  of  translation  was  complete,  Mtesa  mustered 
all  his  principal  chiefs  and  officers,  and  after  a  long  discourse, 
in  which  he  explained  his  state  of  mind  prior  to  my  arrival, 
he  said :  — 

'Now  I  want  you,  my  chiefs  and  soldiers,  to  tell  me  what 
we  shall  do.   Shall  we  believe  in  Jesus,  or  in  Mohammed?' 

One  chief  said,  'Let  us  take  that  which  is  the  best.'  The 
Prime  Minister,  with  a  doubtful  manner,  replied,  'We  know 
not  which  is  the  best.  The  Arabs  say  their  book  is  the  best, 
while  the  white  man  claims  that  his  book  is  the  best.  How 
can  we  know  which  speaks  the  truth?'  The  courtly  steward 
of  the  palace  said,  'When  Mtesa  became  a  son  of  Islam,  he 
taught  me,  and  I  became  one.  If  my  master  says  he  taught 
me  wrong,  now,  having  more  knowledge,  he  can  teach  me 
right.' 


318  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

Mtesa  then  proceeded  to  unfold  his  reasons  for  his  belief 
that  the  white  man's  book  must  be  the  true  book,  basing  them 
principally  upon  the  difference  of  conduct  he  had  observed 
between  the  Arabs  and  the  whites.  The  comparisons  he  so 
eloquently  drew  for  them  were  in  all  points  so  favourable  to 
the  whites,  that  the  chiefs  unanimously  gave  their  promise 
to  accept  the  Christians'  Bible,  and  to  conform,  as  they  were 
taught,  to  the  Christian  religion. 

To  establish  them  in  the  new  faith  which  they  had  embraced, 
it  only  rested  with  me  to  release  Darlington,  my  young  assist- 
ant-translator, from  my  service,  that  he  might  keep  the  words 
of  the  Holy  Book  green  in  their  hearts,  until  the  arrival  of  a 
Christian  mission  from  England.  Seldom  was  an  appeal  of 
this  nature  so  promptly  acceded  to,  as  Mtesa's  appeal  that 
pastors  and  teachers  should  be  sent  to  his  country ;  for  £14,000 
was  subscribed  in  a  short  time  for  the  equipment  of  a  Mis- 
sionary expedition,  under  the  auspices  of  the  Church  Mission- 
ary Society.  Three  months  before  we  reached  the  Atlantic 
Ocean,  the  missionaries  for  Uganda  arrived  at  Zanzibar,  the 
island  we  had  left  nineteen  months  previously.1 

On  the  conclusion  of  peace,  Mtesa  gave  me  two  thousand 
three  hundred  men  for  an  escort.  With  these  we  travelled 
west  from  the  north-west  corner  of  Lake  Victoria  and  dis- 
covered the  giant  mountain  Gordon  Bennett,  in  the  country 
of  Gambaragara,  and  halted  near  Lake  Muta-Nzige.  But  as 
the  Wanyoro  gathered  in  such  numbers  as  to  make  it  impos- 
sible to  resist  them,  we  retreated  back  to  Lake  Victoria.  We 
then  bade  adieu  to  the  Waganda,  and  travelled  south  until 
we  came  to  Lake  Tanganyika.  We  launched  our  boat  on  that 
lake,  and,  circumnavigating  it,  discovered  that  there  was  only 
a  periodical  outlet  to  it.  It  is,  at  this  present  time,  steadily 
flowing  out  by  the  Lukuga  River,  westward  to  the  Lualaba, 
until,  at  some  other  period  of  drought,  the  Tanganyika  shall 
again  be  reduced,  and  the  Lukuga  bed  be  filled  with  vegeta- 
tion. 

Thus,  by  the  circumnavigation  of  the  two  lakes,  two  of  the 

1  This  Uganda  Mission  encountered  tragic  as  well  as  heroic  experiences,  including 
an  aggressive  rivalry  by  the  Roman  Catholics,  fierce  persecution  by  the  Mohammedans, 
and  many  martyrdoms.  Ultimately,  it  prospered  and  grew,  and  the  Guardian,  Novem- 
ber 25,  1908,  speaks  of  it  as  'the  most  successful  of  modern  missions.' — D.  S. 


THROUGH  THE   DARK  CONTINENT       319 

geographical  problems  I  had  undertaken  to  solve  were  settled. 
The  Victoria  Nyanza  I  found  to  be  one  lake,  covering  a  super- 
ficial area  of  21,500  square  miles.  The  Tanganyika  had  no 
connection  with  the  Albert  Nyanza ;  and,  at  present,  it  had 
no  outlet.  Should  it  continue  to  rise,  as  there  was  sufficient 
evidence  to  prove  that  for  at  least  thirty  years  it  had  been 
steadily  doing,  its  surplus  waters  would  be  discharged  by 
the  Lukuga  River  into  the  Lualaba. 

There  now  remained  the  grandest  task  of  all,  in  attempt- 
ing to  settle  which  Livingstone  had  sacrificed  himself.  Is  the 
Lualaba,  which  he  had  traced  along  a  course  of  nearly  thirteen 
hundred  miles,  the  Nile,  the  Niger,  or  the  Congo?  He  himself 
believed  it  to  be  the  Nile,  though  a  suspicion  would  sometimes 
intrude  itself  that  it  was  the  Congo.  But  he  resisted  the  idea. 
'Anything  for  the  Nile,'  he  said,  'but  I  will  not  be  made  black 
man's  meat  for  the  Congo  ! ' 

I  crossed  Lake  Tanganyika  with  my  expedition,  lifted  once 
more  my  gallant  boat  on  our  shoulders,  and  after  a  march  of 
nearly  two  hundred  and  twenty  miles  arrived  at  the  superb 
river  on  the  banks  of  which  Livingstone  had  died. 

Where  I  first  sighted  it,  the  Lualaba  was  fourteen  hundred 
yards  wide  —  a  noble  breadth,  pale  grey  in  colour,  winding 
slowly  from  south  and  by  east.  In  the  centre  rose  two  or 
three  small  islets,  green  with  the  foliage  of  trees  and  the  ver- 
dure of  sedge.  It  was  my  duty  to  follow  it  to  the  ocean, 
whatever  might  hap  during  the  venture. 

We  pressed  on  along  the  river  to  the  Arab  colony  of  Mwana- 
Mamba,  the  chief  of  which  was  Tippu-Tib,  a  rich  Arab,  who 
possessed  hundreds  of  armed  slaves.  He  had  given  consider- 
able assistance  to  Cameron.  A  heavy  fee,  I  thought,  would 
bribe  him  to  escort  me  some  distance,  until  the  seductions  of 
Nyangwe  would  be  left  far  behind. 

'I  suppose,  Tippu-Tib,  you  would  have  no  objections  to 
help  me,  for  a  good  sum?  ' 

1 1  don't  know  about  that,'  he  said,  with  a  smile ;  T  have  not 
many  men  with  me  now.  Many  are  at  Imbarri,  others  are 
trading  in  Manyuema.' 

1  How  many  men  have  you  ? ' 

1  Perhaps  three  hundred,  —  say  two  hundred  and  fifty.' 

'They  are  enough.' 


320  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

'  Yes,  added  to  your  people,  but  not  enough  to  return  alone 
after  you  would  leave  me,  through  such  a  country  as  lies  be- 
yond Nyangwe.' 

1  But,  my  friend,  think  how  it  would  be  with  me,  with  half 
a  continent  before  me.' 

'Ah,  well,  if  you  white  people  are  fools  enough  to  throw 
away  your  lives,  that  is  no  reason  why  Arabs  should!  We 
travel  little  by  little,  to  get  ivory  and  slaves,  and  are  years 
about  it.    It  is  now  nine  years  since  I  left  Zanzibar/ 

After  a  while,  he  called  a  man  named  Abed,  son  of  Friday, 
who  had  penetrated  further  than  any  man,  westward  and 
northward. 

1  Speak,  Abed ;  tell  us  what  you  know  of  this  river.' 

'  Yes,  I  know  all  about  the  river.   Praise  be  to  God ! ' 

1  In  which  direction  does  it  flow,  my  friend? ' 

1  It  flows  north.' 

'And  then?' 

'  It  flows  north.' 

'And  then?' 

'Still  north.  I  tell  you,  sir,  it  flows  north,  and  north,  and 
north,  and  there  is  no  end  to  it.  I  think  it  reaches  the  Salt 
Sea ;  at  least,  my  friends  say  that  it  must.' 

'Well,  point  out  in  which  direction  this  Salt  Sea  is.' 

'  God  only  knows.' 

'  What  kind  of  a  country  is  it  to  the  north,  along  the  river?  ' 

'  Monstrous  bad !  There  are  fearfully  large  boa-constrictors, 
in  the  forest  of  Uregga,  suspended  by  their  tails,  waiting  to 
gobble  up  travellers  and  stray  animals.  The  ants  in  that 
forest  are  not  to  be  despised.  You  cannot  travel  without 
being  covered  by  them,  and  they  sting  like  wasps.  There  are 
leopards  in  countless  numbers.  Every  native  wears  a  leopard- 
skin  cap.  Gorillas  haunt  the  woods  in  legions,  and  woe  befall 
the  man  or  woman  they  meet ;  they  run  and  fasten  their  fangs 
in  the  hands,  and  bite  the  fingers  one  by  one,  and  spit  them  out 
one  after  another.  The  people  are  man-eaters.  It  is  nothing 
but  constant  fighting.  A  party  of  three  hundred  guns  started 
for  Uregga;  only  sixty  returned.  If  we  go  by  river,  there  are 
falls  after  falls.  Ah,  sir,  the  country  is  bad,  and  we  have 
given  up  trying  to  trade  in  that  direction.' 

But,  despite  the  terrible  news  of  Abed,  the  son  of  Friday, 


THROUGH  THE  DARK  CONTINENT       321 

Tippu-Tib  was  not  averse  to  earning  a  decent  fee.  Pending 
his  definite  acceptance  of  a  proffered  sum  of  a  thousand 
pounds,  I  consulted  my  remaining  companion,  Frank  Pocock. 

While  my  little  ebon  page  Mabruki  poured  out  the  evening's 
coffee,  I  described  the  difficulty  we  were  in.  I  said,  'These 
Arabs  have  told  such  frightful  tales  about  the  lands  north  of 
here,  that  unless  Tippu-Tib  accepts  my  offer,  the  expedition 
will  be  broken  up,  for  our  men  are  demoralized  through  fear  of 
cannibals  and  pythons,  leopards  and  gorillas,  and  all  sorts  of 
horrible  things.  Canoes  we  cannot  get ;  both  Livingstone  and 
Cameron  failed.  Now,  what  do  you  say,  Frank,  shall  we  go 
south  to  Lake  Lincoln,  Lake  Kamalondo,  Lake  Bemba,  and 
down  to  the  Zambezi  ? ' 

'Ah,  that's  a  fine  trip,  sir.' 

'Or  shall  we  explore  north-east  of  here  until  we  strike  the 
Muta  Nzige,  then  strike  across  to  Uganda,  and  back  to 
Zanzibar? ' 

'Ah,  that  would  be  a  fine  job,  sir,  if  we  could  do  it.' 

'Or  shall  we  follow  this  great  river,  which  for  all  these 
thousands  of  years  has  been  flowing  northward  through 
hundreds,  possibly  thousands  of  miles,  of  which  no  one  has 
ever  heard  a  word?  Fancy,  by  and  by,  after  building  or  buy- 
ing canoes,  floating  down  the  river,  day  by  day,  to  the  Nile,  or 
to  some  vast  lake  in  the  far  north,  or  to  the  Congo  and  the 
Atlantic  Ocean !  Think  of  steamers  from  the  mouth  of  the 
Congo  to  Lake  Bemba ! ' 

1  I  say,  sir,  let  us  toss  up,  best  two  out  of  three  to  decide  it ! ' 

1  Toss  away,  Frank ;  here  is  a  rupee.  Heads  for  the  north 
and  the  Lualaba;  tails  for  the  south  and  Katanga.' 

Frank,  with  beaming  face,  tossed  the  coin  high  up.  It 
showed  tails! 

He  tossed  again,  and  tails  won  six  times  running !  But  de- 
spite the  omen  of  the  coin,  and  the  long  and  short  straws,  I 
resolved  to  cling  to  the  north  and  to  the  Lualaba. 

Frank  replied,  'Sir,  have  no  fear  of  me!  I  shall  stand  by 
you.  The  last  words  of  my  dear  old  father  were,  "  Stick  by 
your  master,"  and  there  is  my  hand,  sir;  you  shall  never 
have  cause  to  doubt  me.'  And  poor  Frank  kept  his  word  like 
a  true  man. 


322  HENRY   M.  STANLEY 

Tippu-Tib  eventually  agreed,  and  signed  a  contract,  and  I 
gave  him  a  promissory  note  for  one  thousand  pounds. 

On  the  5th  of  November,  1876,  a  force  of  about  seven  hun- 
dred people,  consisting  of  Tippu-Tib's  slaves  and  my  expe- 
dition, departed  from  the  town  of  Nyangwe  and  entered  the 
dismal  forest-land  north.  A  straight  line  from  this  point  to  the 
Atlantic  Ocean  would  measure  one  thousand  and  seventy 
miles ;  another  to  the  Indian  Ocean  would  measure  only  nine 
hundred  and  twenty  miles ;  we  had  not  reached  the  centre  of 
the  continent  by  seventy-five  miles. 

Outside  the  woods  blazed  a  blinding  sunshine ;  underneath 
that  immense  and  everlasting  roof-foliage  were  a  solemn  twi- 
light and  the  humid  warmth  of  a  Turkish  bath.  The  trees 
shed  continual  showers  of  tropic  dew.  Down  the  boles  and 
branches,  massive  creepers  and  slender  vegetable  cords,  the 
warm  moisture  trickled  and  fell  in  great  globes.  The  wet 
earth  exhaled  the  moisture  back  in  vapour,  which,  touching 
the  cold,  damp  foliage  overhung  high  above  our  heads,  became 
distilled  into  showers.  As  we  struggled  on  through  the  mud, 
the  perspiration  exuded  from  every  pore.  Our  clothes  were 
soon  wet  and  heavy,  with  sweat  and  the  fine  vapoury  rain. 
Every  few  minutes  we  crossed  ditches  filled  with  water,  over- 
hung by  depths  of  leafage.  Our  usual  orderly  line  was  there- 
fore soon  broken;  the  column  was  miles  in  length.  Every 
man  required  room  to  sprawl,  and  crawl,  and  scramble  as  he 
best  could,  and  every  fibre  and  muscle  was  required  for  that 
purpose. 

Sometimes  prostrate  forest-giants  barred  the  road  with  a 
mountain  of  twigs  and  branches.  The  pioneers  had  to  carve 
a  passage  through  for  the  caravan  and  the  boat  sections.  If  I 
was  so  fortunate  as  to  gain  the  summit  of  a  hill,  I  inhaled  long 
draughts  of  the  pure  air,  and  looked  out  over  a  sea  of  foliage 
stretching  to  all  points  of  the  compass.  I  had  certainly  seen 
forests  before,  but  all  others,  compared  to  this,  were  mere 
faggots.  It  appalled  the  stoutest  heart;  it  disgusted  me  with 
its  slush  and  reek,  its  gloom  and  monotony. 

For  ten  days  we  endured  it ;  then  the  Arabs  declared  they 
could  go  no  further.  As  they  were  obstinate  in  this  determina- 
tion, I  had  recourse  to  another  arrangement.  I  promised  them 
five  hundred  pounds  if  they  would  escort  us  twenty  marches 


THROUGH  THE   DARK  CONTINENT        323 

only.  It  was  accepted.  I  proposed  to  strike  for  the  river.  On 
our  way  to  it,  we  came  to  a  village,  whose  sole  street  was 
adorned  with  one  hundred  and  eighty-six  skulls,  laid  in  two 
parallel  lines.  The  natives  declared  them  to  be  the  skulls  of 
gorillas,  but  Professor  Huxley,  to  whom  I  showed  specimens, 
pronounced  them  to  be  human. 

Seventeen  days  from  Nyangwe,  we  saw  again  the  great 
river.  Remembering  the  toil  of  the  forest-march,  and  viewing 
the  stately  breadth  and  calm  flow  of  the  mighty  stream,  I  here 
resolved  to  launch  my  boat  for  the  last  time. 

While  we  screwed  the  sections  together,  a  small  canoe,  with 
two  Bagenya  fishermen,  appeared  in  front  of  our  camp  by  the 
river. 

1  Brothers !'  we  hailed  them,  'we  wish  to  cross  the  river. 
Bring  your  canoes  and  ferry  us  across.  We  will  pay  you  well 
with  cowries  and  bright  beads.' 

'Who  are  you?' 

'We  are  from  Nyangwe.' 

'  Ah  !  you  are  Wasambye ! ' 

'No,  we  have  a  white  man  as  chief.' 

'  If  he  fills  my  canoe  with  shells,  I  will  go  and  tell  my  people 
you  wish  to  go  over.' 

'We  will  give  you  ten  shells  for  the  passage  of  every 
man.' 

'We  want  a  thousand  for  each  man.' 

'That  is  too  much ;  come,  we  will  give  you  twenty  shells  for 
every  man.' 

'Not  for  ten  thousand,  my  brother.  We  do  not  want  you  to 
cross  the  river.  Go  back,  Wasambye ;  you  are  bad.  Wasambye 
are  bad,  bad,  bad !  ' 

They  departed,  singing  the  wildest,  weirdest  note  I  ever 
heard.  I  subsequently  discovered  it  to  be  a  kind  of  savage- 
telegraphy,  which  I  came  to  dread,  as  it  always  preceded 
trouble. 

About  noon,  the  boat  was  launched  for  her  final  work. 
When  we  rowed  across  the  river,  the  mere  sight  of  her  long 
oars,  striking  the  water  with  uniform  movement,  alarmed  the 
unsophisticated  aborigines.  They  yielded  at  last,  and  the 
double  caravan  was  transported  to  the  left  bank.  We  passed 
our  first  night  in  the  Wenya  land  in  quietness;  but,  in  the 


324  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

morning,  the  natives  had  disappeared.  Placing  thirty-six  of 
the  people  in  the  boat,  we  floated  down  the  river  with  the  cur- 
rent, close  to  the  left  bank,  along  which  the  land-party 
marched.  But  the  river  bore  us  down  much  faster  than  the 
land-party  was  able  to  proceed.  The  two  divisions  lost  touch 
of  one  another  for  three  days. 

Nothing  could  be  more  pacific  than  the  solitary  boat  gliding 
down  on  the  face  of  the  stream,  without  a  movement  of  oar  or 
paddle;  but  its  appearance,  nevertheless,  was  hailed  by  the 
weird  war-cries  of  the  Wenya.  The  villages  below  heard  the 
notes,  shivered  with  terror,  and  echoed  the  warning  cry  'to 
beware  of  strangers  afloat/ 

We  came  to  the  confluence  of  the  Ruiki  with  the  Lualaba. 
I  formed  a  camp  at  the  point  to  await  our  friends.  I  rowed  up 
the  Ruiki  to  search  for  them.  Returning  two  hours  later,  I 
found  the  camp  was  being  attacked  by  hosts  of  savages. 

On  the  third  day  the  land-column  appeared,  weary,  hag- 
gard, sick,  and  low-spirited.  Nevertheless,  nothing  was  to  be 
gained  by  a  halt.  We  were  in  search  of  friendly  savages,  if 
such  could  be  found,  where  we  might  rest.  But,  as  day  after 
day  passed  on,  we  found  the  natives  increasing  rather  than 
abating  in  wild  rancour,  and  unreasonable  hate  of  strangers. 
At  every  curve  and  bend  they  '  telephoned'  along  the  river  the 
warning  signals ;  the  forests  on  either  bank  flung  hither  and 
thither  the  strange  echoes ;  their  huge  wooden  drums  sounded 
the  muster  for  fierce  resistance;  reed  arrows,  tipped  with 
poison,  were  shot  at  us  from  the  jungle  as  we  glided  by.  To 
add  to  our  distress,  the  small-pox  attacked  the  caravan,  and 
old  and  young  victims  of  the  pest  were  flung  daily  into  the 
river.  What  a  terrible  land !  Both  banks,  shrouded  in  tall, 
primeval  forests,  were  filled  with  invisible,  savage  enemies; 
out  of  every  bush  glared  eyes  flaming  with  hate ;  in  the  stream 
lurked  the  crocodiles  to  feed  upon  the  unfortunates;  the  air 
seemed  impregnated  with  the  seeds  of  death ! 

On  the  1 8th  of  December,  our  miseries  culminated  in  a  grand 
effort  of  the  savages  to  annihilate  us.  The  cannibals  had 
manned  the  topmost  branches  of  the  trees  above  the  village 
of  Vinya  Njara;  they  lay  like  pards  crouching  amidst  the 
garden-plants,  or  coiled  like  pythons  in  clumps  of  sugar-cane. 
Maddened  by  wounds,  we  became  deadly  in  our  aim ;  the  rifle 


THROUGH  THE   DARK  CONTINENT        325 

seldom  failed.  But,  while  we  skirmished  in  the  woods,  the 
opposite  bank  of  the  river  belched  flotillas,  which  recalled  us 
to  the  front,  and  the  river-bank.  For  three  days,  with  scarcely 
any  rest,  the  desperate  fighting  lasted.  Finally,  Tippu-Tib 
appeared.  His  men  cleared  the  woods;  and  by  night  I  led  a 
party  across  the  river,  and  captured  thirty-six  canoes  belong- 
ing to  those  who  had  annoyed  us  on  the  right  bank.  Then 
peace  was  made.  I  purchased  twenty-three  canoes,  and  sur- 
rendered the  others. 

Beyond  Vinya  Njara,  the  Arabs  would  not  proceed,  and  I 
did  not  need  them.  We  were  far  enough  from  Nyangwe.  Its 
seductive  life  could  no  longer  tempt  my  people.  Accordingly, 
we  prepared  to  part. 

I  embarked  my  followers  in  the  canoes  and  boat.  Tippu- 
Tib  ranged  his  people  along  the  bank.  His  Wanyamuezi 
chanted  the  mournful  farewell.  We  surrendered  ourselves  to 
the  strong  flood,  which  bore  us  along  to  whatever  Fate 
reserved  in  store  for  us. 

/Dense  woods  covered  both  banks  and  islands.  Though 
populous  settlements  met  our  eyes  frequently,  our  intercourse 
with  the  aborigines  was  of  a  fitfully  fierce  character.  With 
an  audacity  sprung  from  ignorance,  and  cannibal  greed,  they 
attacked  us  with  ever  fresh  relays.  A  few  weak  villages  al- 
lowed our  flotilla  to  glide  by  unmolested,  but  the  majority 
despatched  their  bravest  warriors,  who  assailed  us  with  blind 
furyj  Important  tributaries,  such  as  the  Uruidi,  the  Loweva, 
the  Leopold,  and  the  Lufu,  opened  wide  gaps  in  the  dark 
banks,  and  lazy  creeks  oozed  from  amid  low  flats  and  swamps. 

Armies  of  parrots  screamed  overhead  as  they  flew  across  the 
river ;  aquatic  birds  whirred  by  us  to  less  disturbed  districts ; 
legions  of  monkeys  sported  in  the  branchy  depths;  howling 
baboons  alarmed  the  solitudes ;  crocodiles  haunted  the  sandy 
points  and  islets;  herds  of  hippopotami  grunted  thunderously 
at  our  approach ;  elephants  bathed  their  sides  by  the  margin 
of  the  river;  there  was  unceasing  vibration  from  millions  of 
insects  throughout  the  livelong  day.  The  sky  was  an  azure 
dome,  out  of  which  the  sun  shone  large  and  warm ;  the  river 
was  calm,  and  broad,  and  brown.  While  we  floated  past  the 
wilderness,  we  were  cheered  by  its  calm  and  restful  aspect, 
but  the  haunts  of  the  wild  men  became  positively  hateful. 


326  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

Such  were  my  experiences  until  I  arrived  at  what  is  now 
known  as  the  Stanley  Falls.  The  savages  gathered  about  us 
on  the  river,  and  lined  the  shore  to  witness  the  catastrophe, 
but  I  faced  the  left  bank,  drove  the  natives  away,  and  landed. 
For  twenty-two  days  I  toiled  to  get  past  the  seven  cataracts  — 
my  left  flank  attacked  by  the  ruthless  and  untiring  natives, 
my  right  protected  by  the  boiling  and  raging  flood.  On  the 
28th  of  January,  my  boats  were  safe  below  the  Falls. 

I  was  just  twenty  miles  north  of  the  Equator.  Since  I  first 
sighted  the  mysterious  Lualaba,  I  had  only  made  about  sixty 
miles  of  westing  in  a  journey  of  nearly  four  hundred  miles. 
Therefore  its  course  had  been  mainly  northward  and  Nile- 
ward,  almost  parallel  with  the  trend  of  the  Tanganyika. 

I  myself  was  still  in  doubt  as  to  what  river-system  it 
belonged  to.  But  below  the  Falls,  the  Lualaba,  nearly  a  mile 
wide,  curved  northwest.  '  Ha !  it  is  the  Niger,  or  the  Congo,'  I 
said.  I  had  not  much  time  to  speculate,  however.  Every  hour 
was  replete  with  incidents.  The  varied  animal  life  on  the 
shores,  the  effervescing  face  of  the  turbid  flood,  the  subtle 
rising  and  sinking  of  the  greedy  crocodile,  the  rampant  plunge 
and  trumpet  snort  of  the  hippos,  the  unearthly,  flesh-curdling 
cry  of  the  relentless  cannibal  —  had  it  not  been  for  these, 
which  gave  tone  to  our  life,  there  was  every  disposition  to 
brood,  and  dream,  and  glide  on  insensibly  to  eternal  forget- 
fulness.  Looked  I  ahead,  I  viewed  the  stern  river  streaming 
away  —  far  away  into  a  tremulous,  vaporous  ocean.  If  you 
followed  that  broad  band  of  living  waters,  quick  and  alert  as 
the  senses  might  be  at  first,  you  soon  became  conscious  that 
you  were  subsiding  into  drowsiness  as  the  eyes  rested  on  the 
trembling  vapours  exhaled  by  river  and  forest,  which  covered 
the  distance  as  with  silver  gauze;  then  the  unknown  lands 
loomed  up  in  the  imagination,  with  most  fantastic  features, 
the  fancy  roamed  through  pleasing  medleys,  — 

'  And  balmy  dreams  calmed  all  our  pains, 
And  softly  hushed  our  woes.' 

But  see !  we  have  arrived  at  the  confluence  of  the  Lualaba 
with  a  river  which  rivals  it  in  breadth.  Down  the  latter,  a 
frantic  host  of  feathered  warriors  urge  a  fleet  of  monstrous 
canoes.  They  lift  their  voices  in  a  vengeful  chorus,  the  dense 


THROUGH   THE   DARK   CONTINENT         327 

forest  repeats  it,  until  it  flies  pealing  from  bank  to  bank.  The 
war-horns  are  blown  with  deafening  blasts,  the  great  drums 
boom  out  a  sound  which  fills  our  ears  and  deafens  our  sense 
of  hearing.  For  a  moment,  we  are  aghast  at  the  terrific  view  ! 
The  instinct  of  most  of  our  party  is  to  fly.  Fly  from  that 
infuriate  rush !  Impossible !  The  rifles  of  our  boat  are  directed 
against  the  fugitives.  They  are  bidden  to  return,  to  form  a 
line,  to  drop  anchor.  The  shields  which  have  been  our  booty 
from  many  a  fight  are  lifted  to  bulwark  the  non-combatants, 
the  women  and  the  children ;  and  every  rifleman  takes  aim, 
waiting  for  the  word.  It  is  '  neck  or  nothing  ' !  I  have  no 
time  to  pray,  or  take  sentimental  looks  around,  or  to  breathe 
a  savage  farewell  to  the  savage  world ! 

There  are  fifty-four  canoes.  The  foremost  is  a  Leviathan 
among  native  craft.  It  has  eighty  paddlers,  standing  in  two 
rows,  with  spears  poised  for  stabbing,  their  paddles  knobbed 
with  ivory,  and  the  blades  carved.  There  are  eight  steersmen 
at  the  stern,  a  group  of  prime  young  warriors  at  the  bow, 
capering  gleefully,  with  shield  and  spear ;  every  arm  is  ringed 
with  broad  ivory  bracelets,  their  heads  gay  with  parrot- 
feathers. 

The  Leviathan  bears  down  on  us  with  racing  speed,  its  con- 
sorts on  either  flank  spurting  up  the  water  into  foam,  and  shoot- 
ing up  jets  with  their  sharp  prows;  a  thrilling  chant  from 
two  thousand  throats  rises  louder  and  louder  on  our  hearing. 

Presently,  the  poised  spears  are  launched,  and  a  second  later 
my  rifles  respond  with  a  ripping,  crackling  explosion,  and  the 
dark  bodies  of  the  canoes  and  paddlers  rush  past  us.  For  a 
short  time,  the  savages  are  paralyzed ;  but  they  soon  recover. 
They  find  there  is  death  in  those  flaming  tubes  in  the  hands 
of  the  strangers,  and,  with  possibly  greater  energy  than  they 
advanced,  they  retreat,  the  pursued  becoming  the  pursuers 
in  hot  chase. 

My  blood  is  up.  It  is  a  murderous  world,  and  I  have  begun 
to  hate  the  filthy,  vulturous  shoals  who  inhabit  it.  I  pursue 
them  up-stream,  up  to  their  villages ;  I  skirmish  in  their  streets, 
drive  them  pell-mell  into  the  woods  beyond,  and  level  their 
ivory  temples ;  with  frantic  haste  I  fire  the  huts,  and  end  the 
scene  by  towing  the  canoes  into  mid-stream  and  setting  them 
adrift ! 


328  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

Now,  suspecting  everything  with  the  semblance  of  man,  like 
hard-pressed  stags,  wearied  with  righting,  our  nerves  had 
become  unstrung.  We  were  still  only  in  the  middle  of  the  con- 
tinent, and  yet  we  were  being  weeded  out  of  existence,  day 
by  day,  by  twos  and  threes.  The  hour  of  utter  exhaustion 
was  near,  when  we  should  lie  down  like  lambs,  and  offer  our 
throats  to  the  cannibal  butchers. 

But  relief  and  rest  were  near.  The  last  great  affluent  had 
expanded  the  breadth  of  the  Lualaba  to  four  miles.  A  series 
of  islands  were  formed  in  mid-river,  lengthy  and  narrow, 
lapping  one  another;  and  between  each  series  there  were 
broad  channels.  I  sheered  off  the  mainland,  entered  these 
channels,  and  was  shut  out  from  view. 

'Allah/  as  I  cried  out  to  my  despairing  people,  'has  pro- 
vided these  liquid  solitudes  for  us.  Bismillah,  men,  and 
forward.' 

But,  every  two  or  three  days,  the  channels,  flowing  diago- 
nally, floated  us  in  view  of  the  wild  men  of  the  mainland.  With 
drumming  and  horn-blowing,  these  ruthless  people  came  on, 
ignoring  the  fact  that  their  intended  victims  might  hold  their 
lives  dear,  might  fight  strenuously  for  their  existence.  The 
silly  charms  and  absurd  fetishes  inspired  the  credulous  natives 
with  a  belief  in  their  invulnerability.  They  advanced  with  a 
bearing  which,  by  implication,  I  understood  to  mean,  'It  is 
useless  to  struggle,  you  know.  You  cannot  evade  the  fate  in 
store  for  you !  Ha,  ha ;  meat,  meat,  we  shall  have  meat  to-day ! ' 
and  they  dashed  forward  with  the  blind  fury  of  crocodiles  in 
sight  of  their  prey,  and  the  ferocious  valour  of  savages  who 
believe  themselves  invincible. 

W7hat  then?  Why,  I  answered  them  with  the  energy  of 
despair,  and  tore  through  them  with  blazing  rifles,  leaving 
them  wondering  and  lamenting. 

I  sought  the  mid-channel  again,  and  wandered  on  with  the 
current,  flanked  by  untenanted  islets,  which  were  buried  in 
tropical  shade  by  clustered  palms  and  the  vivid  leafage  of 
paradise.  Ostracised  by  savage  humanity,  the  wilds  em- 
braced us,  and  gave  us  peace  and  rest.  In  the  voiceless  depths 
of  the  watery  wilderness  we  encountered  neither  treachery 
nor  guile.  Therefore  we  clung  to  them  as  long  as  we  could, 
and  floated  down,  down,  hundreds  of  miles. 


THROUGH  THE   DARK  CONTINENT        329 

The  river  curved  westward,  then  south-westward.  Ah, 
straight  for  the  mouth  of  the  Congo !  It  widened  daily ;  the 
channels  became  numerous.  Sometimes  in  crossing  from  one 
to  another  there  was  an  open  view  of  water  from  side  to  side. 
It  might  have  been  a  sea  for  all  we  knew,  excepting  that  there 
was  a  current,  and  the  islands  glided  by  us. 

After  forty  days,  I  saw  hills ;  the  river  contracted,  gathered 
its  channels  one  by  one,  until  at  last  we  floated  down  a  united 
and  powerful  river,  banked  by  mountains.  Four  days  later 
we  emerged  out  of  this  on  a  circular  expanse.  The  white  cliffs 
of  Albion  were  duplicated  by  white  sand-cliffs  on  our  right, 
at  the  entrance,  capped  by  grassy  downs.  Cheered  at  the 
sight,  Frank  Pocock  cried  out,  'Why,  here  are  the  cliffs  of 
Dover,  and  this  singular  expanse  we  shall  call  Stanley  Pool!' 

The  stretch  of  uninterrupted  navigation  I  had  just  de- 
scended measured  one  thousand  and  seventy  statute  miles.  At 
the  lower  end  of  Stanley  Pool,  the  river  contracted  again,  and 
presently  launched  itself  down  a  terraced  steep,  in  a  series 
of  furious  rapids. 

Resolved  to  cling  to  the  river,  we  dragged  our  canoes  by 
land  past  the  rapids,  lowered  them  again  into  the  river,  pad- 
dled down  a  few  miles  with  great  rock-precipices  on  either 
hand.  We  encountered  another  rapid,  and  again  we  drew  our 
canoes  overland.  It  grew  to  be  a  protracted  and  fatal  task. 
At  Kalulu  Falls  six  of  my  men  were  drowned.  Accidents  oc- 
curred almost  every  day.  Casualties  became  frequent.  Twice 
myself  and  crew  were  precipitated  down  the  rapids.  Frank 
Pocock,  unwarned  by  the  almost  every-day  calamity,  insisted 
that  his  crew  should  shoot  the  Massassa  Falls.  The  whirlpool 
below  sucked  all  down  to  the  soundless  depths,  out  of  which 
Frank  and  two  young  Zanzibaris  never  emerged  alive. 

But  still  resolute  to  persevere,  I  continued  the  desperate 
task,  and  toiled  on  and  on,  now  in  danger  of  cataracts,  then 
besieged  by  famine,  until,  on  the  31st  of  July,  I  arrived  at  a 
point  on  the  Lower  Congo,  last  seen  by  Captain  Tuckey,  an 
English  Naval  officer,  in  18 16.  I  knew  then,  beyond  dispute 
of  the  most  captious  critic,  that  the  Lualaba,  whose  mys- 
tery had  wooed  Livingstone  to  his  death,  was  no  other  than 
the  'lucid,  long-winding  Zaire,'  as  sung  by  Camoens,  or  the 
mighty  Congo. 


330  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

Now,  farewell,  brave  boat!  seven  thousand  miles,  up  and 
down  broad  Africa,  thou  hast  accompanied  me !  For  over  five 
thousand  miles  thou  hast  been  my  home!  Now  lift  her  up 
tenderly,  boys,  so  tenderly,  and  let  her  rest ! 

Wayworn  and  feeble,  we  began  our  overland  march,  through 
a  miserable  country  inhabited  by  a  sordid  people.  They 
would  not  sell  me  food,  unless  for  gin,  they  said.  Gin !  and 
from  me!  'Why,  men,  two  and  a  half  years  ago  I  left  the 
Indian  Sea,  and  can  I  have  gin?  Give  us  food  that  we  may 
live,  or  beware  of  hungry  men  ! '  They  gave  us  refuse  of  their 
huts,  some  pea-nuts,  and  stunted  bananas.  We  tottered  on 
our  way  to  the  Atlantic,  a  scattered  column  of  long  and 
lean  bodies,  dysentery,  ulcers,  and  scurvy,  fast  absorbing  the 
remnant  of  life  left  by  famine. 

I  despatched  couriers  ahead.  Two  days  from  Boma,  they 
returned  with  abundance.  We  revived,  and,  staggering,  ar- 
rived at  Boma  on  the  9th  of  August,  1877,  and  an  international 
gathering  of  European  merchants  met  me,  and,  smiling  a 
warm  welcome,  told  me  kindly  that  I  'had  done  right  well.' 

Three  days  later,  I  gazed  upon  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  and  I 
saw  the  puissant  river  flowing  into  the  bosom  cf  that  bound- 
less, endless  sea.  But,  grateful  as  I  felt  to  Him  who  had 
enabled  me  to  pierce  the  Dark  Continent  from  east  to  west, 
my  heart  was  charged  with  grief,  and  my  eyes  with  tears,  at 
the  thought  of  the  many  comrades  and  friends  I  had  lost. 

The  unparalleled  fidelity  of  my  people  to  me  demanded 
that  I  should  return  them  to  their  homes.  Accordingly,  I  ac- 
companied them  round  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  to  Zanzibar, 
where,  in  good  time,  we  arrived,  to  the  great  joy  of  their 
friends  and  relatives,  when  father  embraced  son,  and  brother 
brother,  and  mothers  their  daughters,  and  kinsmen  hailed 
as  heroes  the  men  who  had  crossed  the  continent. 

Only  the  inevitable  limitations  of  space  prevent  a  citation  from 
the  fuller  account  of  this  expedition  in  Stanley's  book,  '  Through 
the  Dark  Continent,'  of  some  passages  illustrating  the  loyal  and 
tender  relations  between  him  and  his  black  followers.  Nothing  in 
the  story  exceeds  in  human  interest  the  final  scene,  his  conveying  of 
his  surviving  force,  from  the  mouth  of  the  Congo,  around  the  Cape, 
to  their  homes  in  Zanzibar,  so  removing  their  depression  arising 
from  the  fear  that,  having  found  again  his  own  people,  he  may  leave 
them ;  their  gladness  at  the  re-assurance  he  gives ;  the  arrival  at 


>! 


X 


x 


0 


Jrff** 


^v 


THROUGH  THE   DARK  CONTINENT        331 

Zanzibar,  after  three  weeks'  voyage;  the  astonishment  and  delight 
of  the  reunion  with  relatives  and  friends ;  the  sorrowful  parting  with 
their  master.  When  he  went  on  board  the  steamer  to  sail  for  Europe, 
a  deputation  of  the  best  followed  him  on  board,  to  offer  their  help  in 
reaching  his  home,  if  he  needed  it,  and  to  declare  that  they  would 
start  for  no  new  adventure  on  the  continent  until  they  heard  that 
he  had  safely  reached  his  own  land. 

The  second  pay-day  was  devoted  to  hearing  the  claims  for 
wages  due  to  the  faithful  dead.  Poor,  faithful  souls!  With 
an  ardour  and  a  fidelity  unexpected,  and  an  immeasurable 
confidence,  they  had  followed  me  to  the  very  death !  True, 
negro  nature  had  often  asserted  itself;  but  it  was,  after  all, 
but  human  nature.  They  had  never  boasted  that  they  were 
heroes,  but  they  exhibited  truly  heroic  stuff  while  coping 
with  the  varied  terrors  of  the  hitherto  untrodden,  and  ap- 
parently endless,  wilds  of  broad  x\frica. 

They  were  sweet  and  sad  moments,  those  of  parting.  What 
a  long,  long  and  true  friendship  was  here  sundered !  Through 
what  strange  vicissitudes  of  life  had  they  not  followed  me! 
What  wild  and  varied  scenes  had  we  not  seen  together !  What 
a  noble  fidelity  these  untutored  souls  had  exhibited !  The 
chiefs  were  those  who  had  followed  me  to  Ujiji  in  1871 :  they 
had  been  witnesses  of  the  joy  of  Livingstone  at  the  sight  of 
me ;  they  wrere  the  men  to  whom  I  entrusted  the  safe-guard 
of  Livingstone  on  his  last  and  fatal  journey ;  who  had  mourned 
by  his  corpse  at  Muilla,  and  borne  the  illustrious  dead  to  the 
Indian  Ocean. 

In  a  flood  of  sudden  recollection,  all  the  stormy  period,  here 
ended,  rushed  in  upon  my  mind ;  the  whole  panorama  of 
danger  and  tempest  through  which  these  gallant  fellows  had 
so  staunchly  stood  by  me  —  these  gallant  fellows  now  parting 
from  me !  Rapidly,  as  in  some  apocalyptic  trance,  every  vision, 
every  scene  of  strife  with  Man  and  Nature,  through  which 
these  poor  men  and  women  had  borne  me  company,  and 
solaced  me  by  the  simple  sympathy  of  common  suffering, 
came  hurrying  across  my  memory;  for  each  face  before  me 
was  associated  with  some  adventure,  or  some  peril ;  reminded 
me  of  some  triumph,  or  of  some  loss. 

What  a  wild,  weird  retrospect  it  wTas,  that  mind's  flash  over 
the  troubled  past !   So  like  a  troublous  dream ! 

And  for  years  and  years  to  come,  in  many  homes  in  Zanzi- 


332  HENRY   M.  STANLEY 

bar,  there  will  be  told  the  great  story  of  our  journey,  and  the 
actors  in  it  will  be  heroes  among  their  kith  and  kin.  For  me, 
too,  they  are  heroes,  these  poor  ignorant  children  of  Africa  ; 
for,  from  the  first  deadly  struggle  in  savage  Ituru,  to  the 
last  struggling  rush  into  Embomma,  they  had  rallied  to  my 
voice  like  veterans ;  and  in  the  hour  of  need  they  had  never 
failed  me.  And  thus,  aided  by  their  willing  hands  and  by 
their  loyal  hearts,  the  expedition  had  been  successful,  and  the 
three  great  problems  of  the  Dark  Continent's  geography 
had  been  fairly  solved.     Laus  Deo. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
FOUNDING  THE  CONGO  STATE 

THE  first  work,  exploration,  was  done.  Now  for  the  harder 
task,  civilisation.  That  was  henceforth  the  main  purpose 
and  passion  of  Stanley's  life.  For  him,  the  quest  of  wider 
knowledge  meant  a  stage  towards  the  betterment  of  mankind.  He 
had  laid  open  a  tract  comparable  in  extent  and  resources  to  the  basin 
of  the  Amazon,  or  the  Mississippi.  What  his  vision  saw,  what  his  su- 
preme effort  was  given  to,  was  the  transformation  of  its  millions  of 
people  from  barbarism,  oppressed  by  all  the  ills  of  ignorance,  super- 
stition, and  cruelty,  into  happy  and  virtuous  men  and  women.  His 
aim  was  as  pure  and  high  as  Livingstone's.  But,  as  a  means,  he 
looked  not  alone  to  the  efforts  of  isolated  missionaries,  but  to  the 
influx  of  great  tides  of  beneficent  activities. 

He  sought  to  pour  the  civilisation  of  Europe  into  the  barbarism 
of  Africa,  and  the  prime  force  to  which  he  looked  was  the  natural, 
legitimate  desire  for  gain,  by  ways  of  traffic;  the  African  and  the 
European  both  eager  for  the  exchanges  which  should  be  for  the  good 
of  both.  With  this,  he  counted  on  the  scientific  curiosity,  and  the 
philanthropic  zeal,  of  the  civilised  world  to  assist  the  work. 

The  curse  of  interior  Africa  had  been  its  isolation.  Its  only  con- 
tact with  the  outer  world  had  been  through  the  ferocious  slave- 
trade,  carried  on  by  Europeans  on  its  western  shore  through  four 
centuries,  until  suppressed  under  English  leadership,  but  still  main- 
tained by  Arabs,  working  wholesale  ruin  from  the  east. 

A  natural  channel,  and  an  invitation  to  legitimate  and  wholesome 
commerce,  was  the  vast  waterway  of  the  Upper  Congo,  which 
Stanley  had  just  discovered.  The  obstacle  which  had  prevented  its 
employment  was  a  strip  of  two  hundred  miles  next  the  sea,  where  a 
succession  of  cataracts  and  rapids,  through  rough  and  sterile  hills, 
made  navigation  impossible.  This  strip  must  be  pierced,  first  by  a 
wagon-road,  later  by  a  railroad.  Its  human  obstacles,  principally 
the  rapacious  African  traders,  or  '  middle-men,'  shrewd,  greedy,  and 
jealous  of  the  white  man's  intrusion,  must  be  propitiated.  Then, 
from  mouth  to  source  of  the  river,  stations  must  be  established  as 
centres  of  trade  and  of  friendly  intercourse. 

That  was  Stanley's  plan;  and  for  fit  and  adequate  support  he 
looked  first  to  the  English  people  and  the  English  Government. 

Before  he  touched  English  soil,  on  his  return  at  the  end  of  1877, 
his  letters  in  the  'Telegraph'  had  hinted  at  the  vast  and  inviting 
political  possibilities  which  the  new  country  offered  to  England. 


334  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

With  scarcely  a  breathing-space,  he  threw  himself  into  the  work 
of  persuading,  preaching,  imploring,  the  ruling  powers  in  English 
Commerce  and  in  public  affairs  to  seize  this  grand  opportunity. 

He  spoke  in  all  the  commercial  centres,  especially  in  Manchester 
and  Liverpool,  setting  forth  the  immense  advantages  to  trade  of 
such  an  enterprise.  He  had  audience  with  such  public  men  as  would 
listen,  or  seem  to  listen.  But  the  Government  and  the  people  of 
England  turned  a  deaf  ear. 

Stanley  was,  by  some,  called  '  Quixotic ' ;  by  others,  an  '  adven- 
turer,' or  'a  buccaneer.'  Others  professed  to  be  shocked,  and  said 
he  put  Commerce  before  Religion ! !  So  he  received  no  help  or  encour- 
agement from  Britain. 

But,  in  Belgium,  King  Leopold  was  already  keenly  interested  in 
African  possibilities.  In  the  summer  of  1877,  he  had  convened  a 
company  of  geographers  and  scientific  men,  who  had  organised  the 
'International  African  Association'  for  exploration,  and,  perhaps, 
something  further.  Their  first  essays  were  mostly  on  the  eastern 
coast. 

On  Stanley's  return,  at  the  end  of  1877,  he  was  met  at  Marseilles 
by  messengers  of  King  Leopold,  to  urge  him  to  come  to  Brussels  for 
a  conference,  and  for  the  initiation  of  further  African  enterprise. 

He  excused  himself  on  the  plea  of  physical  exhaustion  and  unfit- 
ness for  further  undertakings.  But  he  had  other  reasons,  in  his 
strong  preference  for  England  as  his  supporting  power.  After  half 
a  year  of  ill-success  in  that  quarter,  in  August,  he  met  King  Leo- 
pold's Commissioners  in  Paris.  In  the  discussion  there,  the  vague 
purpose  to  do  something  scientific  or  commercial  in  the  basin  of  the 
Congo  crystallised  into  Stanley's  plan  as  given  above.  There  was 
close  study,  analysis,  and  detail ;  the  papers  were  transmitted  to  the 
King,  and  Stanley  kept  in  touch  with  the  project.  But  again  he  urged 
upon  England  that  she  should  take  the  lead;  and,  again,  in  vain. 

Thereupon,  he  accepted  an  invitation  to  the  Royal  Palace  at 
Brussels  in  November,  and  there  met  'various  persons  of  more  or 
less  note  in  the  commercial  and  monetary  world,  from  England, 
Germany,  France,  Belgium,  and  Holland.'  An  organisation  was 
made,  under  the  name,  'Comite  d'Etude  du  Haut  Congo  '  (which 
afterward  became  practically  identified  with  the  'International'). 
Plans  were  adopted  on  a  modest  scale;  the  sum  of  twenty  thousand 
pounds  was  subscribed  for  immediate  use ;  and  Stanley  was  put  in 
charge  of  the  work.  Colonel  Strauch,  of  the  Belgian  Army,  was 
chosen  President  of  the  Society ;  and  he,  and  his  associates,  selected 
Stanley's  European  assistants,  and  acted  as  his  base  of  supplies 
during  the  five  and  a  half  years  —  January,  1879,  to  June,  1884  — 
which  he  spent  in  the  work. 
^  The  story  of  that  work  is  told  at  large  in  Stanley's  book,  'The 
Congo,  and  the  Founding  of  its  Free  State.'  Less  full  of  adventure 
and  wonder  than  his  preceding  and  following  works,  it  is  rich  in 
material  for  whoever  studies  the  relations,  actual  and  possible, 


FOUNDING  THE  CONGO  STATE  335 

between  civilised  and  savage  men.  The  merest  outline  of  it  is  given 
here,  with  quotations  chosen  mainly  to  illustrate  the  character  of  its 
leader.  For  the  nucleus  of  his  working  force,  he  went  back  to  Zanzi- 
bar, and  chose  seventy  men,  forty  of  whom  had  before  gone  with 
him  through  Africa,  and  who,  as  a  body,  now  served  him  with  a  like 
fidelity  and  devotion.  He  took  them  around  the  continent,  by  Suez 
and  Gibraltar,  and  reached  the  mouth  of  the  Congo  in  August,  1879. 

August  15,  1879.  Arrived  off  the  mouth  of  the  Congo.  Two 
years  have  passed  since  I  was  here  before,  after  my  descent 
of  the  great  River,  in  1877.  Now,  having  been  the  first  to 
explore  it,  I  am  to  be  the  first  who  shall  prove  its  utility  to 
the  world.  I  now  debark  my  seventy  Zanzibaris  and  Somalis 
for  the  purpose  of  beginning  to  civilise  the  Congo  Basing 

I  With  a  force  recruited  up  to  two  hundred  and  ten  negroes,  and 
fourteen  Europeans,  and  with  four  tiny  steamers,  he  set  out  for  the 
mastery  of  the  river.  A  few  miles'  steaming  away  frorn  the  trading 
establishments  at  the  mouth,  up  to  the  head  of  navigation,  and  the 
first  station,  Vivi,  is  planted ;  wooden  huts  brought  from  England 
are  set  up,  and  wagon-roads  are  made.  Then,  a  Labour  of  Hercules, 
transport  must  be  found  for  steamers  and  goods  through  a  long 
stretch  of  rugged  hills.  After  exploration,  the  route  must  be  chosen ; 
then  the  stubborn,  dogged  labour  of  road-building,  over  mountains 
and  along  precipices;  the  Chief,  hammer  and  drill  in  hand,  showing 
his  men  how  to  use  their  tools ;  endless  marching  and  hauling ;  and,  at 
last,  a  whole  year's  work  (1880)  is  done ;  forward  and  backward,  they 
had  travelled  two  thousand  five  hundred  and  thirty-two  miles,  and, 
as  a  result,  they  had  won  a  practicable  way  of  fifty-two  miles  —  '  not 
a  holiday  affair,'  this!  Strenuous  toil,  a  diet  of  beans,  goat's  meat, 
and  sodden  bananas;  the  muggy  atmosphere  of  the  Congo  Canon, 
with  fierce  heat  from  the  rocks,  and  bleak  winds  through  the  gorges ! 
Six  European  and  twenty-two  native  lives,  and  thirteen  whites  in- 
valided and  retired,  were  part  of  the  price.  J 

Now,  a  second  station,  Isangila,  is  built ;  nere,  as  at  Vivi,  a  treaty 
is  made  with  the  natives,  and  land  for  the  station  fairly  bought. 

Next,  we  have  eighty-eight  miles  of  waterway,  and,  then,  another 
station  at  Manyanga.  Here  came  a  plague  of  fever,  and  the  force  was 
further  weakened  by  garrisons  left  for  the  three  stations.  Stanley 
was  desperately  ill;  after  ten  days'  fight  with  the  fever,  the  end 
seemed  at  hand;  he  prescribed  for  himself  sixty  grains  of  quinine, 
and  a  few  minims  of  hydrobromic  acid,  in  an  ounce  of  Madeira  wine ; 
under  this  overpowering  dose  his  senses  reeled ;  he  summoned  his 
European  comrades  for  a  farewell,  while  Death  loomed  before  him, 
and  a  vision  of  a  lonely  grave.  Grasping  the  hand  of  his  faithful 
Albert,  he  struggled  long  and  vainly  to  speak  the  words  of  a  parting 
charge ;  and  when,  at  last,  he  uttered  an  intelligible  sentence,  —  that 


336  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

success  brought  a  rush  of  relief,  and  he  cried,  '  I  am  saved ! '  Then 
came  unconsciousness  for  twenty-four  hours;  and,  afterwards,  just 
life  enough  to  feel  hungry ;  and  thus  he  reached  convalescence  and 
recovery. 

A  push  of  eight  days  further,  to  Stanley  Pool,  where  begins  the 
uninterrupted  navigation  of  the  Upper  Congo.  Here  he  finds  that 
M.  de  Brazza,  in  the  pay  of  France,  though  aided  by  funds  from  the 
Comite  International  of  Belgium,  having  heard  of  Stanley's  doings, 
has  raced  across  from  the  sea,  and  bargained  with  the  natives  for  a 
great  strip  on  the  north  bank  of  the  river.  So,  for  this  region,  Stanley 
secured  the  south  bank.  At  last,  greatly  to  his  encouragement  and 
help,  came  a  re-enforcement  of  the  good  Zanzibaris. 

Early  in  1882,  he  planted  a  fine  station,  named  Leopoldville,  in 
honour  of  the  monarch  whom  Stanley  heartily  admired,  and  relied 
on.  On  this  settlement,  when  he  had  finished  it  to  his  mind,  Stanley 
looked  with  special  pride  and  complacency  :  the  block-house,  impreg- 
nable against  fire  or  musketry ;  the  broad -streeted  village  for  his  na- 
tives ;  their  gardens  of  young  bananas  and  vegetables ;  the  plentiful 
water  and  fuel ;  the  smooth  promenade,  where  he  imagined  his 
Europeans  strolling  on  Sundays,  to  survey  the  noble  prospect  of 
river,  cataract,  forests,  and  mountain. 

Stanley,  however,  saw  more  than  met  the  eye.  He  dwelt  on  the 
possible  future  of  that  magnificent  country,  with  its  well-watered 
soil,  now  neglected,  but  richer  than  any  in  the  whole  Mississippi 
Valley.  '  It  is  like  looking  at  the  intelligent  face  of  a  promising  child : 
though  we  find  nought  in  it  but  innocence,  we  fondly  imagine  that 
we  see  the  germs  of  a  future  great  genius,  —  perhaps  a  legislator,  a 
savant,  warrior,  or  a  poet.' 

Soon  after,  a  violent  fever  so  disabled  him  that  he  was  obliged 
to  return  to  Europe,  in  1882.  He  made  his  report  to  the  Comite 
de  l'Association  Internationale  du  Congo,  which  had  assumed  the 
authority  and  duties  of  the  Comite"  d'Etude.  He  showed  them  that 
he  had  accomplished  all,  and  more  than  all,  his  original  commis- 
sion aimed  at,  and  urged  them  to  complete  the  work  by  building 
a  railroad  along  the  lower  river,  extending  the  chain  of  stations,  and 
obtaining  concessions  of  authority  from  the  chiefs  along  the  whole 
course  of  the  Congo. 

To  all  this  the  Committee  assented,  but  they  were  urgent  that 
Stanley  should  return  to  take  charge.  He  consented,  in  spite  of 
impaired  health,  and  started  back,  after  only  six  weeks  in  Europe; 
making  condition  only,  and  that  with  all  the  persuasiveness  at  his 
command,  that  they  should  send  him  able  assistants,  instead  of  the 
irresponsible,  flighty-headed  youngsters  on  whom  he  had  been 
obliged  so  largely  to  rely.  He  dreaded  what  they  might  have  done, 
or  undone,  in  his  absence.  His  fears  were  justified ;  his  journey  up 
the  river  lay  through  a  mournful  succession  of  neglected  and 
blighted  stations;  and  Leopoldville,  of  which  he  had  hoped  so  much, 
was  a  grass-grown  hungry  waste !  He  did  his  best  to  repair  the  mis- 


and 


::-! 


UP 

much, 


FOUNDING  THE  CONGO    STATE  337 

chief,  and  pushed  on  up  the  river,  the  one  dominating  idea  being  to 
establish  a  succession  of  stations  for  a  thousand  miles  along  the 
Upper  Congo,  as  far  as  Stanley  Falls. 

Briefly,  his  route  from  the  ocean  covered  no  miles  of  steaming; 
then  a  land  march  of  235  miles  to  Stanley  Pool,  whence  the  Upper 
Congo  gives  clear  navigation,  for  1070  miles,  to  Stanley  Falls.  Nu- 
merous tributaries  multiply  the  navigable  waterways  to  about  6000 
miles.  The  district  thus  watered  Stanley  estimated  as  a  square  of  757 
miles  either  way,  a  superficies  of  57,400  square  miles,  nearly  the  di- 
mensions of  the  future  Free  State.  He  found  the  Lower  Congo  region 
unproductive,  yielding  at  first  only  ground-nuts,  palm-oil,  and  feed- 
cake  for  cattle,  and,  further  up-stream,  some  production  of  rubber, 
gum-copal,  and  ivory.  But  the  Upper  Congo  was  rich  in  valuable 
forests  and  in  fertile  soil ;  woods  for  building,  for  furniture,  and  dyes ; 
gums,  ivory  of  elephant  and  hippopotamus;  india-rubber,  coffee, 
gum-copal,  and  much  besides.  All  this  potentiality  of  '  wealth, 
beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice,'  could  only  be  actualised  through  the 
perfection  of  communication :  already  Stanley  was  eagerly  planning 
for  a  railway  that  should  link  the  Upper  Congo  with  the  sea. 

Now,  for  a  year  and  a  half,  his  principal  care  was  to  negotiate 
treaties  with  the  chiefs,  which  should  give  political  jurisdiction  over 
the  territory.  Throughout  the  enterprise,  amiable  relations  with  the 
natives  were  most  successfully  cultivated;  friction  was  overcome 
by  patience  and  tact ;  firmness,  combined  with  gentleness,  in  almost 
every  instance  averted  actual  strife.  The  chiefs  were  willing  enough 
to  cede  their  political  sovereignty,  receiving  in  each  case  somesub- 
stantial  recompense ;  foreign  intrusion  was  barred ;  and  the  private 
rights  and  propertv  of  the  natives  were  respected. 

Over  four  hundred  chiefs  were  thus  dealt  with,  and  so  the  founda- 
tions of  the  Free  State  were  established.  On  his  journey  up  the  river 
he  was  constantly  meeting  tribes  who  were  his  old  acquaintances  of 
six  years  before. "  Old  friends  they  could  scarcely  be  called,  but  new 
friends  they  readilv  became.  A  halo  of  wonder  hung  round  his  first 
advent ;  the  curiosity  born  of  that  memory  was  heightened  by  the 
marvel  of  the  steamboats ;  the  offer  of  barter  was  always  welcome, 
and  the  bales  of  cloth,  the  brass  rods,  the  trinkets,  —  first  as  a  pre- 
sent, then  in  trade,  —  were  the  beginnings  of  familiar  intercourse. 
Stanlev's  diplomacies,  his  peace-makings  between  hostile  tribes, 
his  winning  of  good-will  and  enforcement  of  respect,  make  a  story 
that  should  be  studied  in  his  full  narrative. 

The  summer  of  1 884  found  the  work  of  founding  the  State  virtually 
finished,  and  Stanley  nearly  finished,  too.  There  had  been  difficulties 
of  all  kinds,  in  which  almost  the  entire  responsibility  had  rested  on 
his  shoulders,  and  he  had  reached  the  limit  of  his  strength  ;  could  he 
but  hand  over  his  work  to  a  fit  successor !   He  writes :  — 

There  was  a  man  at  that  time  in  retreat,  near  Mount 
Carmel.    If  he  but  emerged  from  his  seclusion,  he  had  all  the 


338  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

elements  in  him  of  the  man  that  was  needed :  indefatigable 
industry;  that  magnetism  which  commands  affection,  obedi- 
ence, and  perfect  trust;  that  power  of  reconciling  men,  no 
matter  of  what  colour,  to  their  duties ;  that  cheerful  promise 
that  in  him  lay  security  and  peace;  that  loving  solicitude 
which  betokens  the  kindly  chief.  That  man  was  General 
Gordon.  For  six  months  I  waited  his  coming;  finally,  letters 
came  announcing  his  departure  for  the  Soudan;  and,  soon 
after,  arrived  Lieutenant-colonel  Sir  Francis  de  Winton,  of 
the  Royal  Artillery,  in  his  place. 

General  Gordon  had  arranged  to  take  the  Governorship  of  the 
Lower  Congo,  under  Stanley,  who  was  to  govern  the  Upper  Congo ; 
and,  together,  they  were  to  destroy  the  slave-trade  at  its  roots. 
General  Gordon  wrote  a  letter  to  Stanley  in  which  he  said  that  he 
should  be  happy  to  serve  under  him,  and  work  according  to  Stanley's 
ideas.  When  Sir  Francis  de  Winton  went  out,  Stanley  transferred  to 
him  the  Government  of  the  Congo,  and  returned  to  England. 

_  This  same  year,  1884,  saw  the  recognition  of  the  new  State  by  the 
civilised  powers.  England's  contribution  was  mainly  indirect.  She 
had  previously  made  a  treaty  with  Portugal,  allowing  her  a  strip  of 
African  coast,  as  the  result  of  which  she  could  now  have  excluded 
everyone  else  from  the  Congo.  Manchester,  Liverpool,  and  Glasgow, 
through  their  Chambers  of  Commerce,  had  remonstrated  in  vain. 

The  United  States,  meanwhile,  had  been  the  first  to  recognise  the 
new  State  of  the  Congo.  Spurred  by  General  Sandford,  formerly 
Ministerto  Belgium,  who  appealed,  on  the  one  hand,  to  American 
interest  in  Livingstone  and  Stanley,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  to 
commercial  possibilities,  the  American  Senate,  on  April  10,  1884, 
authorised  President  Arthur  to  recognise  the  International  African 
Association  as  a  governing  power  on  the  Congo  River.  This  action, 
says  Stanley,  was  the  birth  to  new  life  of  the  Association. 

In  view  of  the  menace  to  the  world's  trade  by  the  Anglo-Por- 
tuguese treaty,  Bismarck's  strong  personality  now  came  to  the 
front,  somewhat  prompted  by  King  Leopold.  Stanley  admired 
the  straightforward  vigor  of  the  German  as  much  as  he  admired  the 
philanthropy  of  the  Belgian  rule.  Bismarck  summoned  a  Conference 
at  Berlin,  to  which  the  leading  European  powers  sent  delegates. 
There  were  also  delegates  from  the  United  States,  and  with  these 
Stanley  was  present  as  their  '  technical  adviser,'  and,  naturally,  had 
a  good  hearing. 

The  Conference  was  mainly  interested  to  secure  the  commercial 
freedom  of  the  Niger  and  the  Congo.  It  gave  definite  recognition  to 
the  Congo  Free  State.  It  did  map-making  with  a  free  hand,  marking 
out  European  dominions  in  Africa,  with  especial  profit  to  France 
and  Portugal,  through  the  adroitness  of  the  French  Ambassador, 


FOUNDING   THE   CONGO   STATE  339 

says  Stanley,  and  with  the  concurrence  of  Prince  Bismarck.  Also, 
quite  incidentally,  so  to  speak,  the  Conference  proceeded  to  lay 
down  the  formalities  by  which  a  European  power  was  to  establish 
itself  on  virgin  African  soil,  which  consisted,  virtually,  in  putting  up 
a  sign-board  '  to  whom  it  may  concern.'  By  this  simple  process,  and 
with  no  trouble  of  exploration,  purchase,  or  settlement,  Bismarck 
then  calmly  proceeded  to  appropriate  a  large  slice  of  Eastern  Africa, 
which  had  been  opened  up  by  the  British. 

The  future  course  of  African  affairs,  including  the  vesting  of  the 
Congo  sovereignty  in  King  Leopold,  has  no  place  in  this  story. 
In  this  whole  chapter  of  Stanley's  work,  perhaps  the  most  signi- 
ficant feature,  as  to  his  character,  and,  also,  as  a  lesson  in  the  art 
of  civilisation,  is  his  manner  of  dealing  with  the  natives.  As  a 
concrete  instance  may  be  given  the  story  of  Ngalyema  and  the 
fetish. 

Ngalyema,  chief  of  Stanley  Pool  district,  had  demanded 
and  received  four  thousand  five  hundred  dollars'  worth  of 
cotton,  silk,  and  velvet  goods  for  granting  me  the  privilege  of 
establishing  a  station  in  a  wilderness  of  a  place  at  the  com- 
mencement of  up-river  navigation.  Owing  to  this,  I  had  ad- 
vanced with  my  wagons  to  within  ten  miles  of  the  Pool.  I  had 
toiled  at  this  work  the  best  part  of  two  years,  and  whenever 
I  cast  a  retrospective  glance  at  what  the  task  had  cost  me,  I 
felt  that  it  was  no  joke,  and  such  that  no  money  would  bribe 
me  to  do  over  again.  Such  a  long  time  had  elapsed  since 
Ngalyema  had  received  his  supplies,  that  he  affected  to  forget 
that  he  had  received  any;  and,  as  I  still  continued  to  advance 
towards  him  after  the  warnings  of  his  messengers,  he  collected 
a  band  of  doughty  warriors,  painted  their  bodies  with  diagonal 
stripes  of  ochre,  soot,  chalk,  and  yellow,  and  issued  fiercely  to 
meet  me. 

Meantime,  the  true  owners  of  the  soil  had  enlightened  me 
respecting  Ngalyema's  antecedents.  He  was  only  an  enter- 
prising native  trader  in  ivory  and  slaves,  who  had  fled  from 
the  north  bank ;  but,  though  he  had  obtained  so  much  money 
from  me  by  pretences,  I  was  not  so  indignant  at  this  as  at  the 
audacity  with  which  he  chose  to  forget  the  transaction,  and 
the  impudent  demand  for  another  supply  which  underlay  this. 
Ngalyema,  having  failed  to  drawT  any  promise  by  sending 
messengers,  thought  he  could  extort  it  by  appearing  with  a 
warlike  company.  Meantime,  duly  warned,  I  had  prepared 
a  surprise  for  him. 


340  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

I  had  hung  a  great  Chinese  gong  conspicuously  near  the 
principal  tent.  Ngalyema's  curiosity  would  be  roused.  All  my 
men  were  hidden,  some  in  the  steamboat  on  top  of  the  wagon, 
and  in  its  shadow  was  a  cool  place  where  the  warriors  would 
gladly  rest  after  a  ten-mile  march ;  other  of  my  men  lay  still 
as  death  under  tarpaulins,  under  bundles  of  grass,  and  in  the 
bush  round  about  the  camp.  By  the  time  the  drum-taps  and 
horns  announced  Ngalyema's  arrival,  the  camp  seemed  aban- 
doned except  by  myself  and  a  few  small  boys.  I  was  indo- 
lently seated  in  a  chair,  reading  a  book,  and  appeared  too 
lazy  to  notice  anyone ;  but,  suddenly  looking  up,  and  seeing 
my  'brother  Ngalyema,'  and  his  warriors,  scowlingly  regard- 
ing me,  I  sprang  up,  and  seized  his  hands,  and  affectionately 
bade  him  welcome,  in  the  name  of  sacred  fraternity,  and 
offered  him  my  own  chair. 

He  was  strangely  cold,  and  apparently  disgruntled,  and 
said  :  — 

4 Has  not  my  brother  forgotten  his  road?  What  does  he 
mean  by  coming  to  this  country?' 

'Nay,  it  is  Ngalyema  who  has  forgotten  the  blood-bond 
which  exists  between  us.  It  is  Ngalyema  who  has  forgotten 
the  mountains  of  goods  which  I  paid  him.  What  words  are 
these  of  my  brother?' 

1  Be  warned,  Rock-Breaker.  Go  back  before  it  is  too  late. 
My  elders  and  people  all  cry  out  against  allowing  the  white 
man  to  come  into  our  country.  Therefore,  go  back  before  it 
be  too  late.    Go  back,  I  say,  the  way  you  came.' 

Speech  and  counter-speech  followed.  Ngalyema  had  ex- 
hausted his  arguments ;  but  it  was  not  easy  to  break  faith  and 
be  uncivil,  without  plausible  excuse.  His  eyes  were  reaching 
round  seeking  to  discover  an  excuse  to  fight,  when  they  rested 
on  the  round,  burnished  face  of  the  Chinese  gong. 

'What  is  that?'  he  said. 

'Ah,  that  —  that  is  a  fetish.' 

'A  fetish !  A  fetish  for  what?' 

'  It  is  a  war-fetish,  Ngalyema.  The  slightest  sound  of  that 
would  fill  this  empty  camp  with  hundreds  of  angry  warriors; 
they  would  drop  from  above,  they  would  spring  up  from  the 
ground,  from  the  forest  about,  from  everywhere.' 

'Sho !  Tell  that  story  to  the  old  women,  and  not  to  a  chief 


FOUNDING  THE  CONGO  STATE  341 

like  Ngalyema.  My  boy  tells  me  it  is  a  kind  of  a  bell.  Strike 
it  and  let  me  hear  it.' 

'Oh,  Ngalyema,  my  brother,  the  consequences  would  be  too 
dreadful !   Do  not  think  of  such  a  thing!' 

'Strike  it,  I  say.' 

'Well,  to  oblige  my  dear  brother  Ngalyema,  I  will.' 

And  I  struck  hard  and  fast,  and  the  clangorous  roll  rang  out 
like  thunder  in  the  stillness.  Only  for  a  few  seconds,  however, 
for  a  tempest  of  human  voices  was  heard  bursting  into  fright- 
ful discords,  and  from  above,  right  upon  the  heads  of  the 
astonished  warriors,  leaped  yelling  men ;  and  from  the  tents, 
the  huts,  the  forest  round  about,  they  came  by  sixes,  dozens, 
and  scores,  yelling  like  madmen,  and  seemingly  animated  with 
uncontrollable  rage.  The  painted  warriors  became  panic- 
stricken  ;  they  flung  their  guns  and  powder-kegs  away,  forgot 
their  chief,  and  all  thoughts  of  loyalty,  and  fled  on  the  instant, 
fear  lifting  their  heels  high  in  the  air;  or,  tugging  at  their  eye- 
balls, and  kneading  the  senses  confusedly,  they  saw,  heard, 
and  suspected  nothing,  save  that  the  limbo  of  fetishes  had 
suddenly  broken  loose ! 

But  Ngalyema  and  his  son  did  not  fly.  They  caught  the 
tails  of  my  coat,  and  we  began  to  dance  from  side  to  side,  a 
loving  triplet,  myself  being  foremost,  to  ward  off  the  blow 
savagely  aimed  at  my  'brothers,'  and  cheerfully  crying  out, 
1  Hold  fast  to  me,  my  brothers.  I  will  defend  you  to  the  last 
drop  of  my  blood.   Come  one,  come  all,'  etc. 

Presently  the  order  was  given,  'Fall  in!'  and  quickly  the 
leaping  forms  became  rigid,  and  the  men  stood  in  two  long 
lines  in  beautiful  order,  with  eyes  front,  as  though  'at  atten- 
tion.' Then  Ngalyema  relaxed  his  hold  of  my  coat-tails,  and 
crept  from  behind,  breathing  more  freely;  and,  lifting  his 
hand  to  his  mouth,  exclaimed,  in  genuine  surprise  'Eh, 
Mamma!  where  did  all  these  people  come  from?' 

'Ah,  Ngalyema,  did  I  not  tell  you  that  thing  was  a  powerful 
fetish?  Let  me  strike  it  again,  and  show  you  what  else  it  can 
do.' 

'No !  no !  no !'  he  shrieked.    '  I  have  seen  enough !' 

The  day  ended  peacefully.  I  was  invited  to  hasten  on  to 
Stanley  Pool.  The  natives  engaged  themselves  by  the  score 
to  assist  me  in  hauling  the  wagons.   My  progress  was  thence- 


342  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

forward   steady  and   uninterrupted,    and   in   due   time   the 
wagons  and  goods-columns  arrived  at  their  destination. 

But  this  was  only  one  incident  in  what  may  be  called  the  '  educa- 
tion of  Ngalyema.'  Seldom  has  teacher  had  a  mere  unpromising 
pupil.  He  was  a  braggart,  a  liar,  greedy,  capricious,  abjectly  super- 
stitious, mischief-making.  Stanley's  diary  shows  how  he  handled 
him  during  three  months  of  neighbourhood.  For  instance,  Ngal- 
yema begged  certain  articles  as  presents;  Stanley  coupled  the  gift 
with  the  stipulation  that  his  followers  were  not  to  bring  their  arms 
into  the  camp.  The  promise  was  persistently  broken ;  finally,  at  the 
head  of  his  armed  warriors,  Ngalyema  was  suddenly  confronted  by 
Stanley's  rifle,  and  fell  at  his  feet,  in  abject  panic,  to  be  soothed, 
petted,  and  brought  into  a  healthy  state  of  mind.  '  I  am  bound  to 
teach  this  intractable  "brother"  of  mine,'  is  the  comment  in  the 
diary. 

Again  and  again  he  makes  trouble ;  and,  always,  he  is  met  by  the 
same  firm,  gentle  hand.  Slowly  he  improves,  and  at  last  is  allowed 
once  more  to  make  'blood-brotherhood,'  with  crossing  of  arms, 
incisions,  and  solemn  pronouncement  by  the  great  fetish-man  of  the 
tribe,  in  token  of  renewed  fraternity  and  fidelity.  Ngalyema  might 
fairly  be  pronounced  a  reformed  character,  and  the  friendship 
between  him  and  Stanley  became  life-long. 

Some  of  you  may,  perhaps,  wonder  at  the  quiet  inoffensive- 
ness  of  the  natives,  who,  on  a  former  expedition,  had  worried 
my  soul  by  their  ferocity  and  wanton  attacks,  night  and  day ; 
but  a  very  simple  explanation  of  it  may  be  found  in  Living- 
stone's Last  Journals,  dated  28th  October,  1870.  He  says: 
1  Muini  Mukata,  who  has  travelled  further  than  most  Arabs, 
said  to  me,  "  If  a  man  goes  with  a  good-natured,  civil  tongue, 
he  may  pass  through  the  worst  people  in  Africa  unharmed." 
This  is  true,  but  time  also  is  required;  one  must  not  run 
through  a  country,  but  give  the  people  time  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  you,  and  let  their  worst  fears  subside.' 

Now,  on  the  expedition  across  Africa  I  had  no  time  to  give, 
either  to  myself  or  to  them.  The  river  bore  my  heavy  canoes 
downward  ;  my  goods  would  never  have  endured  the  dawdling 
required  by  this  system  of  teaching  every  tribe  I  met  who  I 
was.  To  save  myself  and  my  men  from  certain  starvation,  I 
had  to  rush  on  and  on,  right  through.  But  on  this  expedition, 
the  very  necessity  of  making  roads  to  haul  my  enormous  six- 
ton  wagons  gave  time  for  my  reputation  to  travel  ahead  of  me. 
My  name,  purpose,  and  liberal  rewards  for  native  help,  nat- 


FOUNDING  THE  CONGO  STATE  343 

urally  exaggerated,  prepared  a  welcome  for  me,  and  trans- 
formed my  enemies  of  the  old  time  into  workmen,  friendly 
allies,  strong  porters,  and  firm  friends.  I  was  greatly  for- 
bearing also ;  but,  when  a  fight  was  inevitable,  through  open 
violence,  it  was  sharp  and  decisive.  Consequently,  the  natives 
rapidly  learned  that  though  everything  was  to  be  gained  by 
friendship  with  me,  wars  brought  nothing  but  ruin. 

So  it  was  that  he  went  among  these  fierce  savages  as  a  messenger 
of  good  tidings,  and  they  welcomed  him.  He  put  his  superiority  over 
them  to  use  in  making  bridges  across  the  gulf  between  their  minds 
and  his.  He  studied  not  only  their  languages,  but  their  ceremonials, 
and  adapted  himself  to  their  forms  of  justice  and  ways  of  settling 
disputes,  as  in  the  rite  of  blood-brotherhood.  He  brought  them  not 
only  personal  good-will  and  kind  treatment,  but  the  practical  ad- 
vantages of  civilisation. 

Everywhere  he  found  eagerness  to  trade,  and  the  possibility  of 
commercial  interchange  that  should  be  profitable  to  both  sides. 
Many  of  them  accepted  training  in  labour,  and  recruited  his  road- 
making  force.  In  his  treaties  with  the  chiefs,  he  did  not  hesitate  to 
purchase  full  political  sovereignty,  usually  in  exchange  for  goods; 
for  such  sovereignty  was  worthless  or  harmful  to  these  tribes,  com- 
pared with  the  beneficent  rule  of  a  superior  intelligence.  But  neither 
in  the  formal  treaties,  nor  in  the  actual  practice,  was  there  the  least 
trace  of  spoliation  of  land  and  goods  which  was  practised  later,  when 
Stanley  had  left  the  Congo.  '  It  is  agreed,'  says  one  of  his  typical 
treaties,  'that  the  term  "cession  of  territory"  does  not  mean  the 
purchase  of  the  soil  by  the  Association,  but  the  purchase  of  the 
suzerainty  by  the  Association.' 

Stanley's  whole  treatment  of  the  natives  was  as  simple  in  its  prin- 
ciple as  the  Golden  Rule ;  it  was  applied  with  infinite  skill  and  pa- 
tience; and  in  a  spirit  of  heartiest  human  good-will,  dashed,  often, 
with  boyish  humour  that  went  home  to  the  savage  heart.  He  tells 
with  gusto  of  the  welcome  given  to  frolicking  races,  and  the  gam- 
bols indulged  in  by  his  good  Danish  follower,  Albert :  — 

The  dark  faces  light  up  with  friendly  gleams,  and  a  budding 
of  good-will  may  perhaps  date  from  this  trivial  scene.  To  such 
an  impressionable  being  as  an  African  native,  the  self-involved 
European,  with  his  frigid,  imperious  manner,  pallid  white  face, 
and  dead,  lustreless  eyes,  is  a  sealed  book. 

The  most  tragic  pages  in  the  history  relate  his  coming  upon  a 
series  of  villages  just  ravaged  by  a  ferocious  slave-raid  of  the  Arabs, 
and  afterwards  finding  a  herd  of  the  wretched  captives  chained  and 
guarded.   It  is  a  terrible  picture.   Over  a  hundred  villages  had  been 


344  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

devastated,  and  the  five  thousand  carried  away  as  slaves  stood  for  six 
times  as  many  slain,  or  dying  by  the  way-side.1  The  hot  impulse 
rose  to  strike  a  blow  for  their  liberation ;  but  it  would  have  been 
hopeless  and  useless.  On  his  return  journey,  Stanley  borrowed  from 
the  slave-traders  several  of  their  number  as  his  companions  down 
the  river,  to  give  them  an  object-lesson  as  to  the  impending  check 
on  their  excursions.  To  extirpate  this  slave-trade  was  among  the 
prime  objects  of  his  enterprise,  and  whatever  else  failed,  this  suc- 
ceeded. 

The  furthest  point  he  then  reached  was  Stanley  Falls,  where  he 
planted  his  station  in  charge  of  a  solitary  white  man,  the  plucky  little 
Scotch  engineer,  Binnie.  Stanley,  on  his  return  down  the  river,  re- 
flects on  the  influences  he  has  planted  to  extend  his  work. 

We  had  sown  seeds  of  good-will  at  every  place  we  had 
touched,  and  each  tribe  wTould  spread  diffusively  the  report 
of  the  value  and  beauty  of  our  labours.  Pure  benevolence 
contains  within  itself  grateful  virtues.  Over  natural  people 
nothing  has  greater  charm  or  such  expansible  power;  its  in- 
fluence grows  without  effort ;  its  subtlety  exercises  itself  on  all 
who  come  within  hearing  of  it.  Coming  in  such  innocent 
guise,  it  offends  not ;  there  is  nought  in  it  to  provoke  resent- 
ment. Provided  patience  and  good  temper  guides  the  chief 
of  Stanley  Falls  station,  by  the  period  of  the  return  of  the 
steamers,  the  influence  of  the  seedling  just  planted  there  will 
have  been  extended  from  tribe  to  tribe  far  inland,  and  amid 
the  persecuted  fugitives  from  the  slave-traders. 

Among  the  brightest  pages  of  the  story  are  the  occasional  returns 
to  some  station  where  a  faithful  and  efficient  subordinate,  left  in 
charge,  has  made  the  wilderness  to  blossom  as  a  rose.  Such  is  the 
picture  of  Equatorville,  to  which  he  returned,  after  a  hundred  days' 
absence,  to  find  that  the  good-will  and  zeal  of  two  young  Army 
lieutenants  had  transformed  the  station  from  a  jungle  of  waterless 
scrub ;  had  built  and  furnished  a  commodious,  tasteful,  'hotel' ;  had 
drawn  up  a  code  of  laws  for  the  moral  government  of  the  station, 
and  the  amelioration  of  the  wild  Bakuti ;  and  planned  sanitary  im- 
provements worthy  of  a  competent  Board  of  Public  Works. 

1  The  Rt.  Hon.  Joseph  Chamberlain,  presiding  at  a  banquet,  in  connection  with 
the  London  School  of  Tropical  Medicine,  on  May  n,  1905,  said:  '  Compare  the 
total  number  killed  in  the  whole  series  of  our  expeditions  and  campaigns  in  Africa, 
and  you  will  find  they  do  not  approach  a  fraction  of  the  native  population  destroyed 
every  year  before  our  advent.  My  friend,  Sir  Henry  M.  Stanley,  once  told  me  that,  at 
the  time  of  his  early  expeditions,  he  estimated  that  more  than  a  million  natives  were 
slain  every  year  in  the  Continent  of  Africa,  in  inter-tribal  warfare  and  slave-raiding. 
Where  the  British  flag  is  planted,  there  must  be  British  peace ;  and  barbarous  methods 
must  be  abolished,  and  law  and  order  substituted  for  anarchy.' 


FOUNDING  THE  CONGO  STATE  345 

But  too  frequent  is  the  opposite  story;  the  subordinates'  indolence, 
neglect,  perhaps  desertion ;  and  the  decadence  of  the  station.  The 
painful  element  in  the  story,  and  ominous  of  future  consequences, 
is  the  failures  among  the  men  sent  out  from  Europe  as  his  assist- 
ants. There  were  many  and  honourable  exceptions,  and  these  he 
praises  warmly  in  the  book.1  Such  were  the  Scotch  engineer, 
Binnie,  who  so  stoutly  held  his  solitary  post  at  Stanley  Falls;  the 
efficient  and  fine-spirited  Danish  sailor,  Albert  Christopherson ;  the 
Scandinavian  seaman,  Captain  Anderson,  with  his  genius  for  inspir- 
ing everyone  near  him  to  work;  the  Englishman,  A.  B.  Swinburne, 
with  a  genius  for  gardening  and  home-making,  and  for  winning 
the  affection  of  both  whites  and  blacks;  the  Italian  mechanician, 
Francois  Flamini,  who  charmed  the  steam-engines  into  docility. 
But  the  book  tells  often  of  the  failures,  and  the  private  note-books 
detail  the  story  more  plainly,  and  tell,  too,  something  of  his  difficul- 
ties with  his  native  helpers. 

All  the  officers,  before  I  sent  them  to  their  posts,  were  in- 
structed by  me,  orally  and  in  writing,  in  the  very  minutiae  of 
their  duties,  especially  in  the  mode  of  conduct  to  be  adopted 
towards  the  natives. 

The  ridiculous  inadequacy  of  our  force  as  opposed  to  the 
native  population  required  that  each  officer  should  be  more 
prudent  than  brave,  more  tactful  than  zealous.  Such  conduct 
invariably  made  the  native  pleasantly  disposed  to  us.  If  some 
characters  among  them  presumed  to  think  that  forbearance 
sprang  from  cowardice,  and  were  inclined  to  be  aggressive, 
the  same  prudence  which  they  had  practised  previously  would 
teach  them  how  to  deal  with  such. 

It  was  mainly  impressed  on  the  officers  that  they  were  to 
hold  their  posts  more  by  wit  than  by  force,  for  the  latter  was 
out  of  the  question,  except  after  forethought,  and  in  combi- 
nation with  headquarters.  This  was  due  to  the  fact  that  the 
young  officers  were  as  ignorant  of  diplomacy  as  children.  Their 
instincts  were  to  be  disciplinary  and  dictatorial.  The  cutting 
tone  of  command  is  offensive  to  savages,  and  terrifying  to 
them  as  individuals. 

Captain  D.  exceeded  his  instructions  in  assuming  the  re- 
sponsibility of  provoking  the  Arabs  at  Stanley  Falls.  He 
studied  only  his  own  fighting  instincts,  and  British  resent- 
ment against  the  slaver.  At  an  early  period  he  was  too  brusque ; 

1  The  Congo,  and  the  Founding  of  its  Free  State. 


346  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

this  repelled  confidence  and  roused  resentment.  While  he 
was  expected  to  represent  civil  law  of  the  most  paternal  char- 
acter, he  regarded  the  thirty  Houssas  soldiers  under  his  com- 
mand as  qualifying  him  for  the  role  of  a  military  dictator; 
and  as  soon  as  he  appeared  in  that  character,  the  Arabs  be- 
came unanimous  in  asserting  their  independence.  Before  a 
man  with  thirty  soldiers  can  adopt  such  a  tone,  he  surely 
ought  to  have  been  prepared  for  the  consequences.  But  he 
seems  to  have  done  nothing  except  challenge  the  Arabs.  He 
knew  he  had  so  many  rounds  of  ammunition,  but  his  ammu- 
nition was  damp,  and  he  was  not  aware  of  it.1 

I  know  that  many  of  my  Officers  were  inclined  to  regard  me 
as  '  hard.'  I  may  now  and  then  have  deserved  that  character, 
but  then  it  was  only  when  nought  but  hardness  availed.  When 
I  meet  chronic  stupidity,  laziness,  and  utter  indifference  to 
duty,  expostulation  ceases,  and  coercion  or  hardness  begins. 

His  associates  had  been  the  principal  cause  of  the  exhibition  of 
this  quality,  and  with  some  of  them  he  had  been  very  unfortunate. 

To  describe  Bracconier's  case,  for  example,  would  fill  a 
good-sized  book.  Others  were  equally  impenetrable  to  reason 
and  persuasion. 

Intuitively,  I  felt  that  Braconnier,  though  polite  and  agree- 

1  This  note,  from  Stanley's  pocket-book,  refers  to  an  officer  in  charge  of  the  station 
of  Stanley  Falls.  One  of  the  concubines  of  an  Arab  chief  fled  for  protection  to  Captain 
D.,  having  been  beaten  by  her  master.  The  Arab  demanded  in  civil  terms  that  the 
woman  be  returned.  Captain  D.  declared  that  the  woman  had  sought  his  protection, 
and  she  should  remain  at  his  station.  The  chief  insisted,  Captain  D.  resisted.  The  Arab 
threatened,  Captain  D.  scoffed  at  him,  and  dared  him  to  do  his  worst.  The  Arabs 
thereupon  came  down,  and  shot  everyone,  with  the  exception  of  Captain  D.  and  one  or 
two  others,  who  escaped  in  a  terrible  plight.  The  station  was  burnt,  and  everything 
utterly  destroyed. 

When  I  asked  Stanley  what  he  would  have  done,  whether  he  would  have  returned  the 
poor,  beaten  slave-wife  to  her  cruel  owner,  Stanley  replied,  'Certainly,  rather  than  have 
my  station  wrecked,  and  the  lives  entrusted  to  me  sacrificed ;  but  it  would  never  have 
come  to  that.  T  should  have  received  the  Arab  with  deference  and  much  ceremony,  and, 
after  refreshment  and  compliments,  I  should  have  attempted  some  compromise,  such  as 
by  offering  to  buy  the  woman  for  cloth  and  beads;  or  else  I  should  have  returned  her,  on 
receiving  solemn  assurance  that  she  would  be  mercifully  treated.  I  should  explain  that 
I  was  not  free,  that  if  I  handed  the  woman  back  after  she  had  sought  my  protection,  my 
chief,  hearing  of  it,  would  cut  off  my  head,  but  I  would  give  money  for  her.  The  Arab 
would  have  understood  this  kind  of  talk;  he  would  have  treated  with  me,  all  would  have 
gone  well,  and  we  should  have  parted  the  best  of  friends.  It  is  necessary  to  use  your  wit, 
and  never  to  lose  sight  of  the  consequence  of  your  acts.'  —  D.  S. 


FOUNDING  THE   CONGO  STATE  347 

able,  was  not  to  be  entrusted  with  any  practical  work.  His 
education  and  character  had  utterly  unfitted  him  for  work  of 
any  kind.  He  was  asked  to  superintend  a  little  road-making. 
He  sought  a  nice,  shady  place,  and  fell  asleep ;  and  his  men, 
of  course,  while  they  admired  him  for  his  easy  disposition,  did 
what  was  most  agreeable  to  them,  and  dawdled  over  their  work, 
by  which  we  lost  two  days.  When  myself  incapacitated  by 
a  sudden  stroke  of  fever,  I  requested  him  to  supervise  the 
descent  of  the  boiler-wagon  down  a  hill ;  not  ten  minutes  later 
the  boiler  and  wagon  were  smashed,  and  he  was  brought  to 
me,  half-dead  from  his  injuries!  He  was  appointed  chief  of 
Leopoldville,  but,  in  four  months,  the  place  resembled  a  ruin. 
Grass  encroached  everywhere,  the  houses  were  falling  to 
pieces,  the  gardens  choked  with  weeds,  the  steamers  were 
lying  corroding  in  the  port,  the  natives  were  estranged,  and 
he  and  his  men  were  reduced  to  a  state  of  siege. 

He  allowed  a  young  Austrian  lieutenant  and  six  Zanzibaris 
to  enter  a  small  unsuitable  canoe  and  attempt  to  ascend  the 
Congo.  Within  fifteen  minutes  of  their  departure,  they  were 
all  drowned ! 

There  is  always  another  side  to  these  accusations,  and  those 
inclined  to  believe  Bracconier's  ridiculous  charge  of  my 
'hardness'  should  try,  first,  how  they  would  like  to  endure 
three  years  of  indolence  and  incapacity,  before  they  finally 
dismissed  the  fellow;  let  those  who  criticised  me  ascertain 
whether  this  man  distinguished  himself  in  other  fields  and 
other  missions;  though  I  have  no  doubt  that  in  a  Brussels 
drawing-room  he  would  be  found  to  be  an  agreeable  com- 
panion ;  but  not  in  Africa,  where  work  has  to  be  done,  and 
progress  made. 

Then,  as  regards  the  coloured  people,  good  as  the  majority 
of  Zanzibaris  were,  some  of  them  were  indescribably,  and  for 
me  most  unfortunately,  dense.  One  man,  who  from  his  per- 
sonal appearance  might  have  been  judged  to  be  among  the 
most  intelligent,  was,  after  thirty  months'  experience  with  his 
musket,  unable  to  understand  how  it  was  to  be  loaded !  He 
never  could  remember  whether  he  ought  to  drop  the  powder, 
or  the  bullet,  into  the  musket  first !  Another  time  he  was  sent 
with  a  man  to  transport  a  company  of  men  over  a  river  to 
camp.    After  waiting  an  hour,  I  strode  to  the  bank  of  the 


348  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

river  and  found  them  paddling  in  opposite  directions,  each 
blaming  the  other  for  his  stupidity,  and,  being  in  a  passion 
of  excitement,  unable  to  hear  the  advice  of  the  men  across 
the  river,  who  were  bawling  out  to  them  how  to  manage  their 
canoe. 

Another  man  was  so  ludicrously  stupid  that  he  generally 
was  saved  from  punishment  because  his  mistakes  were  so 
absurd.  We  were  one  day  floating  down  the  Congo,  and,  it 
being  near  camping  time,  I  bade  him,  as  he  happened  to  be 
bowman  on  the  occasion,  to  stand  by  and  seize  the  grass  on 
the  bank  to  arrest  the  boat,  when  I  should  call  out.  In  a  little 
while  we  came  to  a  fit  place,  and  I  cried, '  Hold  hard,  Kirango  ! ' 
— '  Please  God,  Master,'  he  replied,  and  forthwith  sprang  on 
shore  and  seized  the  grass  with  both  hands,  while  we,  of 
course,  were  rapidly  swept  down-river,  leaving  him  alone  and 
solitary  on  the  bank !  The  boat's  crew  roared  at  the  ridiculous 
sight;  but,  nevertheless,  his  stupidity  cost  the  tired  men  a 
hard  pull  to  ascend  again,  for  not  every  place  was  available 
for  a  camp.  He  it  was,  also,  who,  on  an  occasion  when  we 
required  the  branch  of  a  species  of  arbutus  which  overhung 
the  river  to  be  cut  away,  to  allow  the  canoes  to  be  brought 
nearer  to  the  bank  for  safety,  actually  went  astride  of  the 
branch,  and  chopped  away  until  he  fell  into  the  water  with 
the  branch,  and  lost  our  axe.  He  had  seated  himself  on  the 
outer  end  of  the  branch  ! 

The  coloured  men  accepted  the  reproaches  they  deserved 
with  such  good-nature  that,  however  stupid  they  were,  I 
could  not  help  forgiving  and  forgetting.  But  it  was  not  so 
with  the  officers.  Their  amour-propre  was  so  much  offended 
that,  if  I  ventured  on  a  rebuke,  it  was  remembered  with  so 
much  bitterness,  that  an  officer  who  was  continually  erring 
was  also  constantly  in  a  resentful  mood.  I  could  not  discharge 
a  man  for  a  blunder,  or  even  a  few  blunders ;  but,  if  disobeying 
and  making  unfortunate  mistakes  was  his  chronic  state,  and 
he  always  resented  instruction,  it  can  easily  be  imagined  that 
life  with  such  a  one  was  not  pleasant.  There  were  periods 
when  careless  acts  resulted  fatally  to  others ;  or  when  great 
vexation,  or  pecuniary  loss,  went  on  for  months  consecutively ; 
until  I  really  became  afraid  to  ask  any  officer  to  undertake 
any  duty. 


--, :: 


. 


FOUNDING   THE  CONGO  STATE  349 

Who  would  suppose  that  out  of  five  intelligent  Belgian 
officers  bidding  a  sixth  bon  voyage  not  one  could  perceive 
by  the  size  of  the  canoe,  the  number  of  people  in  it,  and  the 
manner  the  departing  friend  was  standing  in  the  little  cockle- 
shell, that  the  voyage  must  end  disastrously?  and  yet  not 
one  had  the  least  suspicion  that  the  young  man  was  going 
to  his  doom,  and  about  to  take  six  fellows  with  him !  Who 
would  have  imagined  that  those  five  horror-struck  gentlemen 
would  have  permitted  two  of  their  companions  to  venture 
upon  attempting  the  same  hazardous  voyage  the  very  next 
day?  And  yet  they  did,  without  so  much  as  a  protest;  and, 
though  the  two  unhappy  voyagers  saved  their  lives  by  spring- 
ing on  shore,  their  boat  and  all  their  effects  were  swept  over 
a  cataract. 

Not  long  after,  another  of  these  officers,  who  belonged  to  a 
boat-club  on  a  Belgian  river,  thought  he  would  establish  one 
of  his  own  on  the  Upper  Congo.  As  a  first  step  he  purchased  an 
elegant  canoe,  paying  heavily  for  it.  He  attached  a  keel-piece 
to  it,  made  a  mast  and  a  sail,  and  one  day  he  went  sailing 
smoothly  towards  the  middle  of  the  river  where  it  was  four 
miles  wide.  Presently,  having  got  beyond  view  of  his  station, 
the  wind  died  away,  and  he  was  carried  down  by  the  mighty 
flood.  He  began  to  cry  out  for  aid,  as  he  had  forgotten  his 
paddles ;  but  his  cries  could  not  be  heard,  he  was  alone  on  the 
wide  waters!  Towards  midnight,  his  men,  getting  anxious, 
set  out  in  search  of  him,  and,  after  many  hours,  found  him 
nearly  distracted  with  terror,  and  brought  him  to  camp,  vow- 
ing he  would  never  again  trust  himself  alone  on  the  Congo ! 

A  short  time  after  this,  another  officer  and  a  French  mis- 
sionary were  devoured  by  cannibals,  with  eleven  Zanzibaris 
who  accompanied  them.  The  details  of  the  story  went  to 
prove  that,  in  this  case  again,  the  military  officer  proved  his 
inaptitude  to  learn,  though  in  other  ways  the  young  man  was 
exemplary.  Still,  the  disposition  to  blunder  seemed  so  pre- 
valent that  he  who  was  responsible  for  the  good  management 
of  their  affairs  might  well  be  pardoned,  if,  in  his  anxiety  for 
the  welfare  of  those  under  him,  he  should  exact  obedience  in 
a  more  peremptory  tone  than  formerly. 

Another  officer  had  his  station  burned  twice,  with  all  the 
property  stored  in  it.   He  was  relieved  of  his  charge,  and  ap- 


350  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

pointed  to  an  honourable  mission ;  but,  after  setting  out,  he 
suddenly  decided  to  abandon  his  people ;  leaving  them  to  find 
their  own  way,  whilst  he  slipped  off  to  the  coast,  'to  buy  a 
pair  of  boots,'  as  he  said.  No  one  could  have  appeared  more 
astonished  than  he  was  wThen,  after  the  third  glaring  offence, 
he  was  told  that  he  was  no  longer  needed. 

Another  officer  was  supplied  with  a  small  company  of  choice 
men,  and  I  instructed  him  to  build  a  station  with  a  friendly 
tribe,  which  had  desired  it  for  the  opening  of  trade.  Within 
a  few  days  he  began  shooting  promiscuously  at  the  natives 
with  a  revolver;  and,  on  one  of  his  men  expostulating  with 
him,  he  turned  the  weapon  upon  his  faithful  sen-ant  and  shot 
him  in  the  head ;  upon  which,  the  remainder  of  the  men  flung 
themselves  upon  him,  and,  having  disarmed  him,  carried  him, 
bound  hand  and  foot,  to  me.  The  officer  was  escorted  to  the 
coast ;  I  charged  him  with  being  a  dangerous  lunatic,  though 
no  one  would  have  supposed,  from  his  appearance  and  lan- 
guage, that  he  was  thus  afflicted. 

I  could  go  on  with  pages  of  these  extraordinary  misadven- 
tures, all  of  which  I  had  to  endure  with  some  of  the  officers 
who  were  sent  out  to  me.  I  but  cite  these  few  instances,  taken 
at  random,  to  prove  that  there  is  another  view  to  be  taken 
when  the  responsible  head  of  an  expedition,  or  enterprise  of 
this  kind,  is  charged  with  being  'hard.'  One  is  not  likely  to 
be  hard  with  persons  who  perform  their  duties ;  but  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  be  mild,  or  amiable,  with  people  who  are  absolutely 
incapable,  and  who  will  not  listen  to  admonition  without 
bristling  with  resentment. 

The  only  power  I  possessed  with  officers  of  this  kind  was 
that  of  dismissal,  which  I  forbore  to  use  too  frequently  be- 
cause, in  doing  so,  I  punished  the  Association.  It  was  only  in 
extreme  cases  that  the  power  was  exercised.  In  Europe,  of 
course,  there  would  be  no  necessity  for  many  words  or  sore 
feelings ;  but  in  Africa,  I  could  not  lose  eighty  pounds  for  a 
solitary  evidence  of  incapacity.  I  practised  forbearance,  I 
tried  to  instruct,  to  expostulate,  to  admonish, — once,  twice, 
thrice ;  I  made  every  effort  to  teach  and  train ;  but,  at  last, 
when  nothing  availed,  I  was  forced  to  have  recourse  to  dis- 
missal. Being  of  an  open  temper  and  frank  disposition,  and 
always  willing  to  hear  what  my  officers  or  men  had  to  say, 


FOUNDING  THE  CONGO  STATE  351 

though  as  a  leader  of  men  I  could  not  hob-nob  with  my  officers, 
they  ought  to  have  found  no  difficulty  in  understanding  me. 
The  black  man  certainly  was  never  at  a  loss  to  do  so. 

No  man  is  free  from  imperfections ;  but  when  one  is  genially 
disposed,  and  evinces  good-will,  a  man  who  fastens  upon  one 
imperfection,  and  constantly  harps  upon  that,  shows  his  own 
narrow-mindedness  and  incapacity. 

I  have  had  no  friend  on  any  expedition,  no  one  who  could 
possibly  be  my  companion,  on  an  equal  footing,  except  while 
with  Livingstone. 

How  could  any  young  men,  fresh  from  their  school-rooms, 
look  with  my  eyes  upon  any  person  or  thing  within  notice? 
A  mathematician  might  as  well  expect  sympathy  from  an 
infant  busy  at  the  alphabet,  as  the  much-travelled  may  expect 
to  find  responsive  feelings  in  youths  fresh  from  home  or 
college.  How  can  he  who  has  witnessed  many  wars  hope  to 
be  understood  by  one  whose  most  shocking  sight  has  been  a 
nose-bleed  ? 

I  was  still  in  that  fierce  period  of  life  when  a  man  feels  him- 
self sufficient  for  himself,  when  he  abounds  in  self-confidence, 
glories  in  a  blazing  defiance  of  danger  and  obstacles,  is  most 
proud  and  masterful,  and  least  disposed  to  be  angelic. 

It  is  strange  that  no  novelist,  to  my  knowledge,  has  alluded 
to  this  strong  virility  of  purpose  which,  at  a  certain  stage,  is 
all-powerful  in  men's  characters. 

Though  altogether  solitary7,  I  was  never  less  conscious  of 
solitude;  though  as  liable  to  be  prostrated  by  fever  as  the 
youngest,  I  was  never  more  indifferent  to  its  sharpest  attacks, 
or  less  concerned  for  its  results.  My  only  comfort  was  my 
work.  To  it  I  ever  turned  as  to  a  friend.  It  occupied  my  days, 
and  I  dwelt  fondly  on  it  at  night.  I  rose  in  the  morning,  wel- 
coming the  dawn,  only  because  it  assisted  me  to  my  labour; 
and  only  those  who  regarded  it  from  a  similar  temperament 
could  I  consider  as  my  friends.  Though  this  may  be  poorly 
expressed,  neverthless,  those  who  can  comprehend  what  I 
mean  will  understand  the  main  grounds. 

The  founding  of  the  Congo  Free  State  was  the  greatest  single 
enterprise  of  Stanley's  life.  Perhaps  nothing  else  so  called  out  and 
displayed  his  essential  qualities.  Its  ultimate  fruit  cannot  be  so 
clearly  measured  as  the  search  for  Livingstone,  or  the  first  explora- 


352  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

tion  of  the  Congo.  Of  those  enterprises  he  was  himself  the  Alpha 
and  the  Omega;  each  was  a  task  for  a  single  man,  and  the  achieve- 
ment was  measured  by  the  man's  personality.  But  the  founding  of 
the  Free  State  was  a  multiple  task,  involving  a  host  of  workers.  He 
had  not  made  the  selection  of  his  helpers,  except  the  rank  and  file, 
and  the  rank  and  file  did  not  fail  him.  It  was  his  lieutenants, 
selected  by  others,  among  whom  the  perilous  defect  was  found. 
Further,  his  undertaking,  in  its  essential  nature,  involved  dangers 
which  it  was  doubtless  well  he  did  not  wholly  foresee,  for  they 
might  have  daunted  even  his  spirit. 

He  broke  down  the  wall  between  a  savage  and  a  civilised  people, 
and  the  tides  rushed  together,  as  at  the  piercing  of  Suez.  On  either 
side  were  both  lifting  and  lowering  forces.  The  faults  and  weakness 
of  the  savage  were  plain  to  see ;  his  merit  and  his  promise  not  so  easy 
of  discernment.  But  the  'civilised  '  influences,  too,  were  extremely 
mixed.  There  was  the  infectious  energy  of  the  able  trader,  and  his 
material  contributions ;  there  were  the  distinctly  missionary  workers ; 
and  there  were  sentiments  of  humanity  and  justice,  often  obscured 
or  perplexed,  but,  when  educated,  powerful  to  compel  Governments 
to  ways  of  righteousness.  With  these  higher  powers  mingled  blind 
and  selfish  lust  of  gain ;  the  degeneracy  of  philanthropy  in  its  part- 
nership with  profit;  the  selfish  feuds  of  race  and  nationality,  each 
for  itself,  alone ;  lastly,  the  easy,  deadly  contempt  of  the  white  man 
for  the  '  nigger.'  To  cast  a  prosperous  horoscope  for  the  evolution 
of  the  African  race,  one  must  hold  strongly  to  the  higher  power  we 
call  Providence. 

The  instrument  of  that  power  was  the  man  who  brought  Europe 
and  America  into  touch  with  Darkest  Africa.  His  example  and  his 
ideal  shine  like  a  star  above  the  continent  he  opened  to  the  world's 
knowledge.  When  the  observant  savages  watched  him,  as  the  rough 
ground  of  Vivi  was  subdued  ;  when,  later,  they  saw  him,  as  the  fifty- 
mile  roadway  was  bridging  the  hills  and  chasms,  and  with  drill  and 
hammer  he  taught  and  led  his  followers,  they  gave  him  the  name 
Bula  MATARI,  '  Breaker  of  Rocks.'  By  hit,  or  by  wit,  they  struck 
his  central  quality  —  concentrated  energy,  victoriously  battling 
with  the  hardest  that  earth  could  offer,  all  to  make  earth  goodly  and 
accessible  to  man.  A  Maker  of  Roads,  a  Breaker  of  Rocks,  was  he 
all  his  life  long  —  Bula  M atari  I 


CHAPTER  XVII 
THE   RESCUE  OF  EM  IN 

PART  I.     THE    RELIEF 

MY  fifth  expedition  was  due  to  the  overwhelming  catas- 
trophe which  occurred  at  Khartoum,  on  January  26th, 
1885.  On  that  date  the  heroic  defender  of  the  city, 
General  Charles  George  Gordon,  of  Chinese  and  African 
fame,  and  his  Egyptian  garrison  were  massacred,  the  popu- 
lation reduced  to  slavery,  and  all  the  vast  Soudan  submerged 
by  barbarism.  The  only  Egyptian  force  in  the  Soudan  which 
escaped  from  the  disaster  was  that  which,  led  by  Emin  Pasha, 
had  sought  refuge  among  the  savage  tribes  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Wadelai  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Nile,  about  250  north 
of  the  Albert  Nyanza.  Fearing  that  he  would  be  unable  to 
offer  continued  resistance,  Emin  began  writing  letters  to  the 
Egyptian  Government,  Mr.  Mackay,  the  Missionary,  the  Anti- 
slavery  Society,  and  Sir  John  Kirk,  imploring  assistance  be- 
fore he  should  be  overwhelmed.  Through  the  influence  of 
Sir  William  Mackinnon,  a  relief-fund  was  collected  in  this 
country,  Egypt  promised  an  equal  sum,  and  the  Emin  Relief 
Expedition  was  the  consequence.  When  men  hear  a  person 
crying  out  for  help,  few  stay  to  ascertain  whether  he  merits 
it;  but  they  forthwith  proceed  to  render  what  assistance  is 
needed.  It  was  rather  harrowing  to  read,  day  by  day,  in  the 
British  Press  that  one  of  Gordon's  officers,  at  the  head  of  a 
little  army,  was  in  danger  of  perishing  and  sharing  the  remorse- 
less fate  which  had  overtaken  the  self-sacrificing  chief  and  his 
garrison  at  Khartoum.  It  is  to  Dr.  R.  W7.  Felkin,  of  Edin- 
burgh, who,  as  a  casual  traveller,  had  enjoyed  Emin's  hospi- 
tality between  July  and  September,  1879,  that  I  am  indebted 
for  that  beautiful  and  inspiring  picture  of  a  Governor  at  bay 
in  the  far  Soudan,  defying  the  victorious  Mahdists,  and  fight- 
ing bravely,  inch  by  inch,  for  the  land  which  he  had  been 
appointed  to  rule  by  General  Gordon. 


354  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

This  Governor  was  described  by  him  as  a  tall,  military 
figure,  of  severe  aspect,  of  rigid  morals,  inflexible  will,  scien- 
tific attainments  —  and  his  name  was  Emin.  The  picture 
became  impressed  on  our  imaginations. 

The  'Mackinnon  Clan,'  as  we  fondly  termed  Sir  William 
Mackinnon  and  his  personal  friends,  were  among  the  foremost 
to  come  forward.  They  offered  to  give  ten  thousand  pounds 
if  the  Egyptian  Government  would  advance  a  similar  amount. 
The  proposal  received  Egypt's  prompt  assent,  and  as  the 
British  Press  and  people  strongly  sympathised  with  the  move- 
ment, the  Government,  also,  cordially  favoured  it. 

My  old  friend  Sir  William  had  asked  me,  before  he  had 
appealed  to  his  friends,  if,  in  the  event  of  a  fund  being  raised, 
I  would  lead  the  expedition.  I  replied  that  I  would  do  so 
gratuitously ;  or,  if  the  Relief  Committee  preferred  another 
leader,  as  was  very  probable,  I  would  put  my  name  down  for 
Five  hundred  pounds.  Without  waiting  the  issue  of  his  appeal 
to  his  friends,  I  sailed  for  America  to  commence  a  lectur- 
ing-tour.  Thirteen  days  after  my  arrival  in  America,  I  was 
recalled  by  cable;  and  on  Christmas  Eve,  1886,  I  was  back 
in  England. 

Forthwith  came  appeals  to  me  from  the  brave  and  adven- 
turous and  young,  that  I  would  be  pleased  to  associate  them 
with  me  in  the  enterprise  of  relief.  They  vowed  strictest 
fidelity,  obedience  to  any  terms,  and  utmost  devotion;  and 
from  among  the  host  of  applicants,  Major  Barttelot,  of  the 
7th  Fusiliers,  Mr.  Jameson,  a  rich  young  civilian,  Lieutenant 
Stairs,  of  the  Royal  Engineers,  Captain  Nelson,  of  Methuen's 
Horse,  Surgeon  Parke,  of  the  Army  Medical  Department,  Mr. 
Jephson,  and  two  or  three  others,  were  enrolled  as  members 
of  the  expedition  to  relieve  Emin  Pasha,  Governor  of  Equa- 
toria.  Had  our  means  only  been  equal  to  our  opportunities, 
we  might  have  emptied  the  barracks,  the  colleges,  the  pub- 
lic schools,  —  I  might  almost  say  the  nurseries,  —  so  great 
was  the  number  of  applications  to  join  in  the  adventurous 
quest ! 

The  route  resolved  upon  was  that  from  Zanzibar  westward, 
via  the  south  end  of  Lake  Victoria,  through  Karagwe  and 
Ankori  and  South-west  Unyoro,  to  Lake  Albert ;  but,  about 
thirteen  days  before  we  sailed,  the  King  of  the  Belgians, 


THE   RESCUE  OF   EMIN  355 

through  his  generous  offers  of  assistance,  induced  us  to  change 
our  plans.  The  advantages  of  the  Congo  route  were  about 
five  hundred  miles  shorter  land-journey,  and  less  opportuni- 
ties for  desertion  of  the  porters,  who  are  quite  unable  to  with- 
stand the  temptation  of  deserting.  It  also  quieted  the  fears 
of  the  French  and  Germans  that,  behind  this  professedly 
humanitarian  quest,  we  might  have  annexation  projects. 

A  native  force  was  recruited  in  Zanzibar,  and  the  expedition 
travelled  by  sea  to  the  mouth  of  the  Congo,  and  went  up  the 
river,  arriving  March  21,  1887,  at  Stanley  Pool.  As  far  as  that 
everything  prospered.  We  had  started  from  England  with  the 
good  wishes  of  all  concerned  ;  and  even  the  French  Press,  with 
one  accord,  were,  for  once,  cordial  and  wished  us  bon  voyage. 
But,  on  reaching  the  Pool,  the  steam  flotilla  was  found  to  be 
only  capable  of  carrying  four-fifths  of  the  expedition. 

Fourteen  hundred  miles  from  the  Atlantic,  we  reached  the 
limit  of  Congo  navigation,  and  found  camp  at  Yambuya,  a 
large  village,  situated  on  the  edge  of  an  unknown  territory 
which  extended  as  far  as  the  Albert  Nyanza.  A  steamer  was 
at  once  sent  down-river  to  bring  the  remainder  of  the  force 
and  stores  left  behind. 

It  should  be  remembered,  that  the  last  news  from  Emin 
was  an  urgent  appeal  for  help.  The  last  solemn  injunction  to 
us  was  to  hurry  forward,  lest  we  be  too  late.  Hitherto,  we  had 
been  dependent  on  the  fortunes  of  the  sea,  the  skill  of  ship 
captains,  and  safe  navigation  by  ocean  and  river.  German 
and  French  jealousies  had  been  dissipated;  between  our  pro- 
fessional deserters  and  their  island,  Zanzibar,  was  half  a  con- 
tinent, and  much  of  it  unknown.  Now  wTas  the  time,  if  ever, 
to  prove  that  our  zeal  had  not  cooled.  Six  weeks,  probably 
two  months,  would  pass  before  the  entire  force  could  be  col- 
lected at  Yambuya.  If  Emin  was  in  such  desperate  straits  as  he 
had  described,  his  total  ruin  might  be  effected  in  that  time, 
and  the  disaster  would  be  attributed  to  that  delay  —  just  as 
Gordon's  death  had  been  attributed  to  Sir  Charles  Wilson's 
delay  at  Metemmeh.  To  avoid  that  charge,  I  had  no  option 
but  to  form  an  Advance  Column,  whose  duty  would  be  to 
represent  the  steady  progress  of  the  expedition  towards  its 
goal,  while  a  second  Column,  under  five  experienced  officers, 
would  convey  after  us,  a  few  weeks  later,  the  reserve  stores 


356  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

and  baggage.  If  Tippu-Tib  was  faithful  to  his  promise  to 
supply  the  second  Column  with  six  hundred  carriers,  the  work 
of  the  reserve  Column  would  be  comparatively  easy.  If  the 
Arab  chief  was  faithless,  then  the  officers  were  to  do  the  best 
they  could  with  their  own  men ;  to  follow  after  me,  in  that 
case,  was  obviously  their  best  course. 

On  the  thirteenth  day  after  arrival  at  Yambuya,  the  ad- 
vance, consisting  of  five  Europeans  and  three  hundred  and 
eighty-four  natives,  entered  the  great  Equatorial  Forest.  The 
unknown  country  which  lay  between  Yambuya  and  the 
Albert  Nyanza,  on  whose  shores  we  hoped  to  meet  the  '  be- 
leaguered' Governor,  was  five  hundred  and  forty  geographical 
miles  in  length,  by  about  three  hundred  and  thirty  in  width. 
We  were  absolutely  ignorant  of  the  character  of  any  portion 
embraced  within  this  area.  The  advance  force  was  divided 
into  four  Companies,  commanded  by  Stairs,  Nelson,  Jephson, 
and  Parke.  The  pioneers  consisted  of  select  men  who  were 
to  use  the  bill-hook,  cutlass,  and  axe,  for  clearing  a  passage 
through  the  entangling  underwood,  without  which  it  would 
have  been  impossible  to  advance  at  all.  They  had  also  to 
resist  attack  from  the  front,  to  scout,  to  search  for  fords,  or 
to  bridge  the  deeper  creeks. 

The  daily  routine  began  about  six  o'clock.  After  roll-calls, 
the  pioneers  filed  out,  followed,  after  a  little  headway  had 
been  gained,  by  each  Company  in  succession.  At  this  hour  the 
Forest  would  be  buried  in  a  cheerless  twilight,  the  morning 
mist  making  every  tree  shadowy  and  indistinct.  After  hack- 
ing, hewing,  and  tunnelling,  and  creeping  slowly  for  five  hours, 
we  would  halt  for  refreshment.  At  one  o'clock,  the  journey 
would  be  resumed ;  and  about  four,  we  would  prepare  our 
camp  for  the  night. 

Soon  after  sunset  the  thick  darkness  would  cover  the  limit- 
less world  of  trees  around  ;  but,  within  our  circle  of  green  huts 
and  sheds,  a  cheery  light  would  shine  from  a  hundred  camp- 
fires.  By  nine  o'clock  the  men,  overcome  by  fatigue,  would 
be  asleep ;  silence  ensued,  broken  only  by  sputtering  fire-logs, 
flights  of  night-jars,  hoarse  notes  from  great  bats,  croakings 
of  frogs,  cricket-cheeps,  falling  of  trees  or  branches,  a  shriek 
from  some  prowling  chimpanzee,  a  howl  from  a  peevish 
monkey,  and  the  continual  gasping  cry  of  the  lemur.  But  dur- 


THE   RESCUE  OF  EMIN  357 

ing  many  nights,  we  would  sit  shivering  under  ceaseless  tor- 
rents of  rain,  watching  the  forky  flames  of  the  lightning,  and 
listening  to  the  stunning  and  repeated  roars  of  the  thunder- 
cannonade,  as  it  rolled  through  the  woody  vaults. 

During  the  first  month  not  a  man  fell  away  from  his  duty ; 
the  behaviour  of  both  officers  and  men  was  noble  and  faultless. 
Regularly  as  clock-work,  each  morning  they  took  to  the  road, 
and  paced  as  fast  as  the  entanglements  and  obstacles  of  under- 
wood, swamp,  and  oozy  creeks  allowed.  Each  day  the  Forest 
presented  the  same  unbroken  continuity  of  patriarchal  woods, 
the  same  ghostly  twilight  at  morning,  the  same  dismal  shade 
at  noon.  Foliage,  from  forty  to  a  hundred  feet  thick,  above  us, 
a  chaos  of  undergrowth  around  us,  soft  black  humus,  and 
dark  soil,  rich  as  compost,  under  our  feet. 

At  intervals  of  ten,  fifteen,  or  twenty  miles,  we  came  across 
small  clearings,  but  their  wild  owners  had  fled,  or  stood  skulk- 
ing on  our  flanks  unseen.  As  no  possible  chance  of  intercourse 
was  offered  to  us,  we  helped  ourselves  to  their  manioc,  plucked 
the  bananas,  and  passed  on. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  month,  there  came  a  change.  Our 
men  had  gradually  lost  their  splendid  courage.  The  hard  work 
and  scanty  fare  were  exhausting.  The  absence  of  sunshine, 
and  other  gloomy  environments,  were  morally  depressing. 
Physically  and  morally,  they  had  deteriorated;  and  a  long 
rest  was  imperatively  needed.  But  we  could  find  no  settle- 
ment that  could  assure  the  necessary  provisions.  Now  that 
the  blood  was  impoverished,  too,  the  smallest  abrasion  from 
a  thorn,  a  puncture  from  a  mosquito,  or  a  skewer  in  the  path, 
developed  rapidly  into  a  devouring  ulcer.  The  sick-list  grew 
alarmingly  large,  and  our  boats  and  canoes  were  crowded 
with  sufferers. 

We,  finally,  entered  upon  a  region  that  had  been  dispeopled 
and  cruelly  wasted  by  the  Manyuema  raiders,  and  it  became 
a  matter  of  life  and  death  to  get  quickly  through  and  beyond 
it.  But,  already  famished  and  outworn,  in  body  and  spirit, 
by  past  struggles,  our  men  were  unable,  and  too  dejected,  to 
travel  rapidly;  and  the  tedious  lagging  involved  still  more 
penalties.  Had  they  known  how  comparatively  short  was  the 
distance  that  lay  between  them  and  supplies,  they  no  doubt 
would  have  made  heroic  efforts  to  push  on. 


V 


358  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

Then  starvation  commenced  to  claim  its  victims,  and  to 
strew  the  track  with  the  dying  and  dead ;  and  this  quailed  the 
stoutest  hearts. 

Ever  before  us  rose  the  same  solemn  and  foodless  Forest  the 
same  jungle  to  impede  and  thwart  our  progress  with  ooze, 
frequently  a  cubit  deep,  the  soil  often  as  treacherous  as  ice  to 
the  barefooted  carrier,  creek-beds  strewn  with  sharp-edged 
oyster-shells,  streams  choked  with  snags,  chilling  mist  and  icy 
rain,  thunder-clatter  and  sleepless  nights,  and  a  score  of  other 
horrors.  To  add  to  our  desperate  state,  several  of  our  follow- 
ers who  had  not  sickened,  lost  heart,  became  mad  with  hun- 
ger and  wild  forebodings,  tossed  the  baggage  into  the  bush, 
and  fled  from  us,  as  from  a  pest. 

Although,  when  on  the  verge  of  hopelessness,  our  scouts 
would  sometimes  discover  a  plantation,  whereat  we  could 
obtain  a  supply  of  plantains,  past  affliction  taught  them  no 
prudence.  They  devoured  their  food  without  a  thought  of  the 
want  of  the  next  day ;  and,  in  a  few  hours,  the  slow  agony  of 
hunger  would  be  renewed. 

Even  the  white  man  does  not  endure  hunger  patiently.  It 
is  a  thing  he  never  forgives.  The  loss  of  one  meal  obliterates 
the  memories  of  a  hundred  feasts.  When  hunger  begins  to 
gnaw  at  his  stomach,  the  nature  of  the  animal  comes  out,  as 
a  tortoise-head,  projected  from  the  shell,  discloses  the  ani- 
mal within.  Despite  education  and  breeding,  the  white  man 
is  seldom  more  than  twenty-four  hours  ahead  of  his  black 
brother,  and  barely  one  hundred  hours  in  advance  of  the 
cannibal;  and  ten  thousand  years  hence  he  will  be  just  the 
same.  He  will  never  be  so  civilised  as  to  be  independent  of  his 
stomach ;  so  it  must  be  understood  that  we  also  exhibited  our 
weakness  during  that  trying  period ;  but,  supported  by  little 
trifles  of  food,  more  prudent  in  economizing  it,  subjected  to 
less  physical  strain,  we  forced  ourselves  to  preserve  the  aus- 
terity and  dignity  of  superiors. 

On  the  hundred  and  thirty-seventh  day  from  Yambuya  we 
reached  the  first  native  settlement  that  had  been  untouched 
by  the  accursed  raiders  to  whom  we  owed  our  miseries.  It 
abounded  with  Indian  corn,  beans,  vegetables,  bananas,  and 
plantains,  upon  which  the  famished  survivors  flung  them- 
selves, regardless  of  consequences.   Our  prolonged  fast  was  at 


THE  RESCUE  OF  EMIN  359 

an  end,  but  during  the  last  seventy  days  of  it  I  had  lost  one 
hundred  and  eighty  men,  through  death  and  desertion.  The 
place  was  called  Ibwiri,  since  known  as  Fort  Bodo;  as  our 
sufferings  had  been  so  intense,  we  halted  here,  and  feasted 
for  thirteen  days. 

The  recuperation  was  rapid,  strength  had  returned  during 
the  feasting,  and  there  rose  a  general  demand  that  we  should 
continue  the  journey,  in  order  that  we  might  delight  our  eyes 
by  the  grass-land  of  which  we  now  began  to  hear  the  first 
rumours.  On  the  twelfth  day  after  quitting  Ibwiri,  we 
emerged  from  the  sombre  twilight  of  the  Forest  into  the 
unclouded  light  of  a  tropic  sky.  A  feeling  of  exultation  imme- 
diately possessed  me,  as  if  I  had  been  released  from  Purgatory, 
to  disport  myself  in  the  meads  of  Heaven.  The  very  air  was 
greedily  sniffed. 

The  first  smell  of  it  that  came  to  my  open  nostrils  seemed 
as  if,  in  the  direction  of  the  wind,  there  somewhere  lay  a  great 
dairy  and  cattle-pen ;  and,  almost  at  once,  I  sighted  startled 
game,  in  close  consult  on  the  knolls  and  mounds,  stamping 
and  snorting  in  the  first  energy  of  alarm.  The  first  view  of  the 
green  rolling  plain  was  as  of  a  grassy  Eden,  which  had  been 
newly  fashioned  with  a  beautiful  shapeliness,  with  a  new  sun, 
and  a  brand-new  sky  of  intense  blue.  It  transfigured  every 
face  in  an  instant,  and  the  homeliest  features  were  lit  up  by 
sincere  emotions  of  gratitude,  as  though  some  dream  of  bliss 
had  been  realised.  By  one  impulse  we  started  to  run ;  our 
exhilarated  blood  seemed  foaming  champagne,  and  sent  us 
leaping  over  the  soft  sward ;  and  the  limbs,  which  had  previ- 
ously strained  heavily  through  the  forest  thickets,  danced  as 
freely  as  those  of  bounding  kids ! 

On  the  13th  December,  one  hundred  and  sixty-nine  days 
from  Yambuya,  the  expedition  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  grassy 
plateau  and  looked  down  upon  the  Albert  Xyanza,  whose 
waters,  as  reported  by  Emin,  were  constantly  navigated  by 
his  steamers,  the  'Khedive'  and  'Nyanza.' 

After  sufficiently  enjoying  the  prospect,  we  commenced  the 
steep  descent  of  two  thousand  seven  hundred  feet,  to  the  lake, 
and,  early  next  morning,  reached  the  shore  which  had  been 
our  goal.  On  inquiring  from  the  natives  as  to  the  whereabouts 
of  the  'white  man  with  the  smoke-boat,'  they  declared  most 


36o  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

positively  that  they  had  not  seen  any  white  man  or  steamer 
since  Colonel  Mason's  visit,  ten  years  before. 

Our  position  was  a  cruel  one.  The  Foreign  Office  had  fur- 
nished me  with  copies  of  all  Emin's  letters,  and  from  their 
tone,  character,  and  numbers  of  statements,  I  had  formed, 
what  probably  every  one  else  had,  an  opinion  of  a  Military 
Governor,  who,  with  two  steamers  and  steel  boats,  had  been 
in  the  habit  of  visiting  the  various  lake  ports. 

I  asked  again  and  again  if  a  white  man  had  been  seen,  and  I 
received  an  answer  always  in  the  negative.  I  had  left  my  steel 
boat  at  Ipoto,  because  of  our  depleted  numbers.  No  food 
was  obtainable  on  the  alkalised  plains  bordering  the  lake. 
The  native  canoes  were  only  suitable  for  inshore  fishing  and 
calm  weather ;  and  there  was  not  a  tree  visible  out  of  which 
a  sizeable  canoe  could  be  made ! 

After  consulting  with  the  officers,  I  found  that  they  also 
were  surprised  at  the  inexplicable  absence  of  news  of  Emin, 
and  a  great  many  guesses  wide  of  the  truth,  as  it  appeared 
later,  were  made.  But  no  amount  of  guessing  would  feed  two 
hundred  hungry  men,  stranded  on  a  naked  lake  shore.  I  there- 
fore resolved,  after  three  days'  halt,  to  retrace  our  steps  to 
Ibwiri,  and  there  erect  a  small  fort  for  the  protection  of  the 
ammunition,  and  as  a  resting-place  for  my  sick ;  after  which 
we  could  return  once  more  to  the  lake,  and,  launching  my 
boat  on  its  waters,  sail  in  search  of  the  missing  Pasha. 

Agreeably  to  this  resolution,  I  turned  my  back  on  the  lake  on 
the  16th  December,  1887,  and,  twenty-one  days  later,  arrived 
at  Ibwiri,  the  site  of  Fort  Bodo.  Without  loss  of  time,  I  com- 
menced building  our  fort.  Meanwhile  Lieutenant  Stairs  was 
sent,  with  a  detachment,  to  collect  the  sick  at  Ipoto,  under 
Surgeon  Parke  and  Captain  Nelson.  On  his  return,  he  was 
sent  with  an  escort  of  twenty  carriers,  who  were  to  hunt  for 
Major  Barttelot's  Column,  which  I  expected  was  follow- 
ing us,  and  to  collect  all  convalescents  at  Ugarrowas,  below 
Ipoto.1 

After  the  construction  of  the  fort,  its  command  was  en- 
trusted to  Captain  Nelson,  and,  accompanied  by  Jephson  and 
Parke,  I  departed,  a  second  time,  to  the  Nyanza;  but  on  this 
occasion  I  carried  my  steel  boat,  in  sections. 

1  Mr.  Stairs,  not  finding  the  Rear-Column,  returned  with  the  sick.  —  D.  S. 


THE  RESCUE  OF  EMIN  361 

One  dc  y's  distance  from  the  lake  I  heard  that  there  was  a 
packet  awaiting  me  at  Kavalli,  from  a  white  man  called  by  the 
natives  '  Malleju,'  or  the  '  bearded  man,'  who,  of  course,>was 
Emin  Pasha.  The  packet  contained  a  letter  addressed  to  me 
by  name,  which  showed,  like  the  letter  of  November  to  Dr. 
Felkin,  that  he  knew  all  about  the  objects  of  the  expedition. 
It  was  dated  March  25th,  1888,  —  it  was  now  April  18th.  Na- 
tive rumour,  according  to  Emin's  letter,  had  stated  that  white 
men  were  at  the  south  end  of  the  lake,  and  he  had  embarked 
on  one  of  his  steamers  to  ascertain  if  the  report  were  true.  It 
was  an  extraordinary  thing,  that,  after  expecting  us  on  the 
15th  December,  he  had  required  one  hundred  days  to  make 
up  his  mind  to  visit  the  south  end  of  the  lake ! 

Unless  we  chose  to  wait  inactively  for  Emin  to  pay  Kavalli  a 
second  visit,  it  was  necessary  to  send  the  boat  in  search  of  him. 
Accordingly,  Mr.  Jephson,  with  a  picked  crew,  was  charged 
with  this  mission. 

Towards  sunset  of  the  fifth  day  after  his  departure,  those 
looking  northward  up  the  lake  discovered  a  column  of  smoke. 
It  rose  from  the  funnel  of  the  steamer  '  Khedive.'  At  dusk  she 
dropped  anchor  nearly  abreast  of  our  camp,  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments our  whale-boat,  steered  by  Jephson,  brought  Emin 
Pasha,  Captain  Casati,  and  several  Egyptian  officers  ashore. 
As  may  be  imagined,  our  people  were  almost  beside  them- 
selves with  delight,  because  the  object  of  our  strenuous  quest 
was  at  last  amongst  them. 

We  agreed  to  pitch  our  camps  side  by  side.  Emin  and  his 
guard  of  Soudanese  to  the  right,  and  we  to  the  left,  on  the 
edge  of  the  lake. 

For  several  days  we  luxuriated  in  our  well-earned  rest  and 
good  cheer.  I  was  in  a  state  of  joyous  ebullience ;  I  acquiesced 
with  all  suggestions.  Few  men  could  have  acted  the  part  of 
hospitable  and  pleasant  host  so  well  as  Emin.  I  quite  under- 
stood now  how  Dr.  Felkin  had  appreciated  this  side  of  Emin's 
character.  He  was  cordial  in  manner,  well-read,  had  seen 
much,  and  appeared  to  be  most  likeable. 

Then  also  my  anxieties  respecting  provisions  for  the  people 
were  at  an  end,  for  Emin  had  provided  abundance  of  grain, 
and,  as  the  main  object  of  the  expedition  was  now  within  view 
of  being  achieved,  my  feelings  all  round  were  those  of  unal- 


362  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

loved  pleasure.  Many  a  time  afterwards,  I  looked  back  upon 
this  period  as  upon  a  delightful  holiday. 

Until  the  25th  of  May,  our  respective  camps  were  close 
together ;  and  we  daily  met  and  chatted  about  various  things, 
during  which,  naturally,  the  topic  as  to  whether  he  would  stay 
in  Equatoria,  or  accompany  me  to  the  coast,  came  up  for  dis- 
cussion frequently.  But,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  our 
meetings,  I  was  only  conscious  that  I  was  profoundly  ignorant 
of  his  intentions.  On  some  days,  after  a  friendly  dinner  the 
night  previous,  he  held  out  hopes  that  he  might  accompany 
me ;  but  the  day  following  he  would  say,  '  No,  if  my  people  go, 
I  go ;  if  they  stay,  I  stay.'  For  ten  days  I  assented  to  this ;  but 
it  became  impressed  on  my  mind,  that  he  had  a  personal  ob- 
jection to  going  to  Egypt,  from  a  fear  that  he  might  be  shelved, 
and  his  life  would  become  wasted  in  a  Cairene  or  Stamboul 
coffee-house.  The  ideal  Governor  whom  I  had  imagined,  had 
been  altogether  replaced  by  a  man  who  had  other  views  than 
those  of  his  Government.  What  those  views  were,  I  could 
never  gather  definitely,  for,  as  has  been  observed,  the  impres- 
sion of  one  day  was  displaced  by  that  of  the  next ;  and  his  real 
opinions,  upon  any  topic  save  an  abstract  question,  were  too 
transient  to  base  a  conclusion  upon. 

Altogether,  I  spent  twenty-five  days  with  Emin.  I  then 
retraced  my  steps  to  Fort  Bodo.  After  carefully  provisioning 
one  hundred  and  seven  men,  and  serving  out  twenty-five  days' 
rations  to  each  man,  I  commenced  the  search  for  the  Rear- 
Column  on  the  16th  June. 

I  have  often  been  asked  how  I  dared  to  face  that  terrible 
and  hungry  Forest  alone,  after  such  awful  experiences.  If  I 
suggested  admonitions  of  duty  and  conscience  as  being  suffi- 
cient motives,  I  seldom  failed  to  notice  a  furtive  shrug.  But, 
really,  I  fail  to  see  what  else  could  have  been  done.  The  Rear- 
Column  was  as  much  a  part  of  the  expedition  as  the  Advance, 
and  had  there  been  only  twenty  blacks,  it  would  have  been  as 
much  my  duty  to  seek  them  as  to  find  what  had  become  of 
two  hundred  and  sixty  Zanzibaris,  with  five  white  officers.  As 
for  sending  any  of  my  own  officers  to  perform  such  an  import- 
ant mission,  well,  there  is  a  saying  which  I  believe  in  thor- 
oughly, '  If  you  want  a  thing  done,  you  must  do  it  yourself.' 
Besides  these  motives,  I  was  too  nervously  anxious  about  the 


THE   RESCUE  OF  EMIN  363 

long-absent  Column,  which  had  been  instructed  to  follow  us, 
and  the  suspense  was  intolerable. 

It  was  also,  principally,  this  nervous  anxiety  about  these 
missing  people  that  drove  me  through  the  Great  Forest  at  such 
a  rate,  that  what  had  taken  us  one  hundred  and  twenty-nine 
days  was  now  performed  in  sixty-two  days.  On  August  17, 
1888,  the  eighty-third  day  since  quitting  the  Pasha,  on  Lake 
Albert,  I  came  in  view  of  the  village  of  Banalya,  ninety  miles 
east  of  Yambuya. 

Presently,1  white  dresses  were  seen,  and  quickly  taking  up 
my  field-glass,  I  discovered  a  red  flag  hoisted.  A  suspicion 
of  the  truth  crept  into  my  mind.  A  light  puff  of  wind  unrolled 
the  flag  for  an  instant,  and  the  white  crescent  and  star  was 
revealed.  I  sprang  to  my  feet  and  cried  out,  'The  Major, 
boys !  Pull  away  bravely ! '  A  vociferous  shouting  and  hur- 
rahing followed,  and  every  canoe  shot  forward  at  racing  speed. 

About  two  hundred  yards  from  the  village  we  stopped  pad- 
dling, and  as  I  saw  a  great  number  of  strangers  on  the  shore, 
I  asked,  'Whose  men  are  you?' — 'We  are  Stanley's  men,' 
was  the  answer,  delivered  in  mainland  Swahili.  But  assured 
by  this,  and  still  more  so  as  I  recognised  a  European  near  the 
gate,  we  paddled  ashore.  The  European  on  a  nearer  view 
turned  out  to  be  William  Bonny,  who  had  been  engaged  as 
doctor's  assistant  to  the  expedition. 

Pressing  his  hand,  I  said,  — 

'Well,  Bonny,  how  are  you?  Where  is  the  Major?  Sick,  I 
suppose? ' 

'The  Major  is  dead,  sir/ 

'Dead?   Good  God!   How  dead?   Fever?' 

1  No,  sir,  he  was  shot.' 

'  By  whom  ? ' 

'By  the  Manyuema  —  Tippu-Tib's  people.' 

'Good  heavens!  Well,  where  is  Jameson?' 

'At  Stanley  Falls.' 

'What  is  he  doing  there,  in  the  name  of  goodness? ' 

'He  went  to  obtain  more  carriers.' 

'Well,  where  are  the  others?' 

1  Contrary  to  the  rule  hitherto  observed,  the  following  dramatic  story  of  the  discovery 
of  the  derelict  Rear-Column  is  quoted  from  the  account  already  published  in  Darkest 
Africa.  —  D.  S. 


364  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

'Gone  home  invalided,  some  months  ago.' 

These  queries,  rapidly  put  and  answered  as  we  stood  by  the 
gate  at  the  water-side,  prepared  me  to  hear  as  deplorable  a 
story  as  could  be  rendered  of  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
series  of  derangements  that  an  organized  body  of  men  could 
possibly  be  plunged  into. 

If  I  were  to  record  all  that  I  saw  at  Banalya,  in  its  deep 
intensity  of  unqualified  misery,  it  would  be  like  stripping  the 
bandages  off  a  vast  sloughing  ulcer,  striated  with  bleeding 
arteries,  to  the  public  gaze,  with  no  earthly  purpose  than  to 
shock  and  disgust. 

I  put  question  after  question  to  Bonny,  to  each  of  which  I 
received  only  such  answers  as  swelled  the  long  list  of  misfor- 
tunes he  gave  me.  The  Column  had  met  nothing  but  disaster. 

The  bald  outline  of  Mr.  Bonny's  story  was  that  Tippu-Tib 
had  broken  faith  with  me,  and  that  the  officers  had  kept  on 
delaying  to  start  after  me,  as  agreed  between  Barttelot  and 
myself.  The  Arab  had  fed  them  continually  with  false  hopes 
of  his  coming ;  finally,  after  seven  visits  which  Barttelot  had 
paid  him  at  Stanley  Falls,  and  in  the  tenth  month,  he  had 
brought  to  Yambuya  four  hundred  men  and  boy  carriers,  and 
a  more  undisciplined  and  cantankerous  rabble  could  not  have 
been  found  in  Africa.  The  Column  had  then  departed,  and 
been  able  to  march  ninety  miles  and  reach  Banalya,  when, 
on  July  19th,  —  or  twenty-eight  days  before  my  arrival,  — 
Barttelot  left  his  house  at  dawn  to  stop  some  disorderly 
noises,  and,  a  few  minutes  later,  he  was  shot  through  the  heart 
by  a  Manyuema  head-man.  Thus,  on  my  arrival,  Mr.  Bonny 
was  the  only  white  man  remaining.  Out  of  two  hundred  and 
sixty  coloured  men  who  had  originally  formed  the  Column, 
only  one  hundred  and  two  were  alive,  and  forty-two  of  them 
were  even  then  dying  from  the  effects  of  eating  poisonous 
manioc. 

In  a  few  days,  I  had  re-organised  a  force  of  over  five  hun- 
dred men;  and,  hastily  removing  from  Banalya,  as  from  a 
pest-house,  finished  my  preparations  on  an  island  in  the 
Aruwimi,  a  few  miles  above.  When  all  was  ready,  I  started 
on  my  way  to  Fort  Bodo,  conveying  all  these  people  as  best  I 
could.   The  sick  folk  and  the  goods,  I  had  carried  in  canoes, 


THE  RESCUE  OF  EMIN  365 

while  the  main  body  marched  along  my  old  track,  parallel  to 
the  river,  and  kept  time  to  the  progress  of  the  water-party. 
The  people  were  now  familiar  with  the  route,  and  were  no 
longer  the  funeral  procession  which  had  slowly  dragged  itself 
through  the  shades  of  the  Forest,  the  year  before.  They  knew 
that  they  were  homeward-bound,  and,  fascinated  by  mem- 
ories of  the  pastoral  plains,  and  unencumbered  with  loads, 
they  marched  in  high  spirits. 

About  a  month's  march  from  Fort  Bodo,  I  cast  off  the  ca- 
noes and  struck  overland  by  a  shorter  way.  Presently,  I 
entered  the  land  inhabited  by  pigmies.  This  race  of  dwarfs 
has  dwelt  in  this  section  of  the  country  since  the  remotest 
times,  before  history.  The  tallest  male  discovered  by  me  did 
not  exceed  four  feet,  six  inches ;  the  average  specimen  was 
about  four  feet,  two  inches,  in  height,  while  many  a  child- 
bearing  pigmy- woman  did  not  exceed  three  feet  high. 

In  the  more  easterly  parts  of  the  Forest  there  are  several 
tribes  of  this  primeval  race  of  man.  They  range  from  the 
Ihuru  River  to  the  Awamba  forest  at  the  base  of  Ruwenzori. 
I  found  two  distinct  types ;  one  a  very  degraded  specimen, 
with  ferrety  eyes,  close-set,  and  an  excessive  prognathy  of 
jaw,  more  nearly  approaching  what  one  might  call  a  cousin 
of  the  simian  than  was  supposed  to  be  possible,  yet  thoroughly 
human ;  the  other  was  a  very  handsome  type,  with  frank, 
open,  innocent  countenances,  very  prepossessing.  I  had  con- 
siderable experience  of  both.1  They  were  wonderfully  quick 
with  their  weapons,  and  wounded  to  death  several  of  my 
followers.  The  custom  in  the  forest  is  to  shoot  at  sight,  and 
their  craft,  quick  sight,  correct  aim,  and  general  expertness, 
added  to  the  fatal  character  of  the  poison  of  their  arrows, 
made  them  no  despicable  antagonists.  The  larger  natives  of 
the  Forest,  who  form  the  clearings  and  plant  immense  groves 
of  plantains,  purchase  their  favour  by  submitting  to  their 
depredations. 

I  have  seen  some  beautiful  figures  among  the  little  people, 

1  The  two  different  kinds  of  pigmies  thus  distinguished  were  the  Batua,  inhabiting  the 
northern,  and  the  Wambutti,  the  southern  district  of  the  territory  traversed  by  Stanley, 
—  the  great  Equatorial  Forest,  —  which  extends  south  of  the  Xiam-Xiam  and  Mon- 
buttu  countries.  The  correctness  of  Stanley's  views  regarding  the  pigmies  has  since  been 
substantiated  by  Wolf,  Wissman,  and  others.  See  Dr.  Schlichter's  paper,  'The  Pigmy 
Tribes  of  Africa,'  Scottish  Geographical  Magazine,  1892. — D.  S. 


366  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

as  perfect  from  the  knees  upward  as  a  sculptor  would  desire, 
but  the  lower  limbs  are  almost  invariably  weak  and  badly- 
shaped. 

They  are  quick  and  intelligent,  capable  of  deep  affection 
and  gratitude ;  and  those  whom  we  trained  showed  remarkable 
industry  and  patience.  One  old  woman,  four  feet,  two  inches 
in  height,  —  possibly  the  ugliest  little  mortal  that  was  ever 
in  my  camp,  —  exhibited  a  most  wonderful  endurance.  She 
seemed  to  be  always  loaded  like  a  camel,  as  she  followed  the 
caravan  from  camp  to  camp,  and  I  often  had  to  reduce  a  load 
that  threatened  to  bury  her  under  her  hamper.  Cooking-pots, 
stools,  porridge-paddles,  kettles,  bananas,  yams,  flour,  native 
rope,  a  treasure  of  ironware,  cloth,  what-not,  everything  was 
placed  in  her  hamper,  as  if  her  strength  was  without  limit. 
Towards  the  latter  part  of  her  acquaintance,  I  was  able  to 
make  her  smile,  but  it  had  been  terribly  hard  work,  as  she  was 
such  an  inveterate  scold.  By  her  action  she  seemed  to  say: 
'You  may  beat  me  to  pulp,  you  may  load  me  until  you  smother 
me  with  your  rubbish,  you  may  work  my  fingers  to  the  bone, 
you  may  starve  me,  but,  thank  Goodness,  I  can  still  scold,  and 
scold  I  will,  until  I  drop!' 

I  had  a  pigmy  boy  of  eighteen,  who  worked  with  a  zeal  that 
I  did  not  think  possible  to  find  out  of  civilisation.  Time  was 
too  precious  to  him  to  waste  in  talk.  On  the  march,  he  stoutly 
held  his  place  near  the  van ;  and,  on  reaching  camp,  he  literally 
rushed  to  collect  fuel  and  make  his  master's  fire.  His  mind 
seemed  ever  concentrated  on  his  wrork.  When  I  once  stopped 
him  to  ask  his  name,  his  face  seemed  to  say,  'Please  don't 
stop  me.  I  must  finish  my  task' ;  and  I  never  heard  his  voice 
while  he  was  with  me,  though  he  was  not  dumb. 

Another  of  my  pigmy  followers  was  a  young  woman,  of 
whom  I  could  honestly  say  that  she  was  virtuous  and  modest, 
though  nude.  It  was  of  no  use  for  any  stalwart  young  Zan- 
zibari  to  be  casting  lover's  eyes  at  her.  She  resolved  that  she 
had  duties  to  perform,  and  she  did  them  without  deigning 
to  notice  the  love-sick  swains  of  our  camp.  Her  master's  tea 
or  coffee  was  far  too  important  to  be  neglected.  His  tent  re- 
quired her  vigilant  watchfulness,  her  master's  comforts  were 
unspeakably  precious  in  her  eyes,  and  the  picture  of  the  half- 
naked    pigmy-girl,   abjuring    frivolities,   and   rendering   due 


THE   RESCUE  OF  EMIN  367 

fidelity,  and  simple  devotedness,  because  it  was  her  nature 
to.  will  remain  long  in  my  mind  as  one  of  many  pleasantnesses 
to  be  remembered. 

I  have  often  been  asked  whether  I  did  not  think  the  pigmies 
to  be  a  degenerate  stock  of  ordinary  humanity.  In  my  opinion, 
tribes  and  nations  are  subject  to  the  same  influences  as  fami- 
lies. If  confined  strictly  to  itself,  even  a  nation  must,  in  time, 
deteriorate. 

Asia  and  Africa  contain  several  isolated  fragments  of  what 
were  once  powerful  nations,  and  yet  more  numerous  relics  of 
once  populous  tribes.  It  is  not  difficult  to  judge  of  the  effect 
on  a  race  of  three  thousand  years'  isolation,  intermarriage, 
and  a  precarious  diet  of  fungi,  wild  fruit,  lean  fibrous  meat 
of  animals,  and  dried  insects.  The  utter  absence  of  sunshine, 
the  want  of  gluten  and  saccharine  bodies  in  their  food,  scarcely 
tend  to  promote  increase  of  stature,  or  strength  of  limb ;  and, 
as  it  is  said,  '  where  there  is  no  progress,  there  must  be  decay,' 
I  suppose  that  some  deterioration  must  have  occurred  since 
the  existence  of  the  pigmies  became  known,  as  the  result  of 
their  ancestors  having  captured  the  five  Nassamonian  ex- 
plorers twenty-six  centuries  ago,  as  described  by  the  Father  of 
History.  On  every  map  since  Hekateus's  time,  500  years  B.C., 
they  have  been  located  in  the  region  of  the  Mountains  of  the 
Moon. 

On  the  20th  of  December,  1888,  we  burst  out  of  the  Great 
Forest,  on  the  edge  of  the  plantations  of  Fort  Bodo ;  and,  by 
9  o'clock,  the  volleys  of  the  rifles  woke  up  the  garrison  at  the 
fort  to  the  fact  that,  after  one  hundred  and  eighty-eight  days' 
absence,  we  had  returned.  What  a  difference  there  was 
between  the  admirable  station,  with  its  model  farm-like  ap- 
pearance, and  Banalya !  But  there  was  one  mystery  yet  re- 
maining. The  Pasha  and  Jephson  had  promised  to  visit  Fort 
Bodo  within  two  months  after  my  departure,  say  about  the 
middle  of  August ;  it  was  now  past  the  middle  of  December, 
and  nothing  had  been  heard  of  them.  But  the  cure  of  all 
doubt,  grief,  misery,  and  mystery  is  action;  and  therefore  I 
could  not  remain  passive  at  Fort  Bodo.  I  allowed  myself 
three  days'  rest  only,  and  then  set  out  for  Lake  Albert  for  the 
third  time. 

On  the  17th  of  January,  1889,  when  only  one  day's  march 


368  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

from  the  Albert  Lake,  a  packet  of  letters  was  placed  in  my 
hands.  They  were  from  Emin  Pasha  and  Mr.  Jephson.  There 
was  a  long  account  from  Jephson,  stating  that  he  and  the 
Pasha  were  prisoners  to  the  revolted  troops  of  the  province 
since  the  18th  August,  the  very  day  after  we  had  discovered 
the  foundered  Rear-Column  at  Banalya !  There  were  some 
expressions  in  poor  Mr.  Jephson's  letters  which  put  a  very 
relief -less  aspect  on  his  case.  'If  I  don't  see  you  again,  com- 
mend me  to  my  friends!'  The  Pasha,  also,  seemed  to  think 
that  nothing  could  be  worse  than  the  outlook,  for  he  specially 
recommended  his  child  to  my  care.  Now,  reading  such  words, 
a  month  after  they  were  written,  was  not  very  assuring. 
However,  I  picked  up  a  crumb  of  comfort  in  the  fact  that 
Mr.  Jephson  said  he  could  come  to  me  if  he  were  informed 
of  my  arrival,  which  I  decided  was  the  best  thing  for  him  to 
do.  Accordingly,  an  imperative  message  was  sent  to  him, 
not  to  debate,  but  to  act;  and,  like  a  faithful  and  obedient 
officer,  he  stepped  into  a  canoe,  and  came. 

After  shaking  hands,  and  congratulating  him  upon  his  nar- 
row escape  from  being  a  footman  to  the  Emperor  of  the 
Soudan,  I  said,  '  Well,  Jephson,  speak.  Is  the  Pasha  decided 
by  this  what  to  do  now?' 

'To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  know  no  more  what  the  Pasha 
intends  doing  now  than  I  did  nine  months  ago.' 

'What,  after  nine  months'  intercourse  with  him?' 

'  Quite  so,  —  not  a  bit.' 

It  was  not  long  before  the  mystery  that  had  struck  me  the 
year  before  was  cleared  up.  The  Pasha  had  been  deceived  by 
the  fair-spoken,  obsequious  Egyptian  and  Soudanese  officers ; 
and,  through  his  good-natured  optimism,  we,  also,  had  been 
deceived.  They  had  revolted  three  times,  and  had  refused  to 
obey  any  order  he  had  given  them.  This  was  the  fourth  and 
final  revolt.  As  early  as  1879,  Gessi  Pasha  had  drawn  General 
Gordon's  attention  to  the  state  of  affairs  in  Equatoria,  and 
had  reported  that,  immediately  the  communication  with 
Khartoum  had  been  suspended  by  the  closing  of  the  Upper 
Nile  by  the  Sudd,  the  indiscipline  had  been  such  as  to  cause 
anxiety.  In  1886,  Emin  Pasha  had  fled  from  the  1st  Battalion, 
and,  until  his  imprudent  resolve  to  take  Mr.  Jephson  among 
the  rebels,  had  held  no  communication  with  them.    The  2nd 


THE   RESCUE  OF  EMIN  369 

Battalion,  also,  only  performed  just  such  service  as  pleased 
them  when  he  condescended  to  use  coaxing,  while  the  Irregu- 
lars, of  course,  would  follow  the  majority  of  the  Regulars.  This 
much  was  clear  from  the  narrative,  written  and  oral,  of  Mr. 
Jephson. 

I  resolved  to  try  once  more,  and  ascertain  what  measures 
agreeable  to  him  I  should  take.  Did  he  wish  an  armed  rescue, 
or  was  it  possible  for  him  to  do  anything,  such  as  seizing  a 
steamer  and  following  Jephson,  or  marching  out  of  Tunguru, 
where  he  was  a  prisoner,  to  meet  me  outside  of  the  fort  ?  or 
had  he  quite  made  up  his  mind  to  remain  a  prisoner  at  Tun- 
guru, until  the  rebels  would  dispose  of  him?  Anyway,  and 
every  way,  if  he  could  only  express  a  definite  wish,  we  vowed 
we  should  help  him  to  the  uttermost.  I  wrote  to  him  a  cere- 
moniously-polite letter  to  that  effect,  for  I  was  warned  that 
the  Pasha  was  extremely  sensitive. 

While  my  letter  was  on  the  lake  being  conveyed  to  Tunguru, 
matters  were  settled  in  quite  an  inconceivable  fashion  at 
Tunguru  station.  The  rebel  officers  had  sent  a  deputation  to 
the  Pasha  to  ask  his  pardon,  and  to  offer  to  re-instate  him  in 
his  Governorship.  The  pardon  was  readily  given,  but  he  de- 
clined yet  awhile  to  accept  the  Governorship.  They  asked 
him  if  he  would  be  good  enough  to  accompany  them  to  pay 
me  a  visit,  and  introduce  them  to  me.  The  Pasha  consented, 
embarked  on  board  the  steamer,  the  refugees  likewise  crowded 
on  board  the  'Khedive'  and  'Nyanza,1  and,  on  the  13th  Feb- 
ruary7, the  two  steamers  approached  our  camp ;  two  days  later, 
the  Pasha  and  rebel  officers  entered  our  camp. 

According  to  the  Pasha,  the  Mahdist  invasion,  the  capture 
of  four  stations,  and  the  massacre  of  many  of  their  numbers, 
had  cowed  the  rebels,  and  they  were  now  truly  penitent  for 
their  insane  conduct  to  him;  and  every  soul  was  willing  to 
depart,  out  of  the  Equatorial  Province,  at  least,  if  not  to 
Egypt.  The  officers  now  only  came  to  beg  for  time  to  assemble 
their  families.  Agreeably  to  the  Pasha's  request,  a  reasonable 
time  was  granted,  and  they  departed.  The  Governor  thought 
that  twenty  days  would  be  sufficient ;  we  granted  a  month.  At 
the  end  of  thirty  days  the  Pasha  requested  another  extension ; 
we  allowed  fourteen  days  more.  Finally,  at  the  end  of  forty- 
four  days,  not  one  officer  of  the  rebel  party  having  made  his 


370  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

appearance,  we  broke  camp,  and  commenced  our  journey 
homeward  with  five  hundred  and  seventy  refugees,  consisting 
of  a  few  Egyptian  officers,  clerks,  and  their  families ;  but,  on  the 
second  day,  an  illness  prostrated  me,  which  permitted  them 
twenty-eight  days  more,  and  yet,  after  seventy-two  days' 
halt,  only  one  person  had  availed  himself  of  my  offer. 

On  the  seventy-third  day  since  my  meeting  with  the  rebel 
officers,  four  soldiers  brought  a  message  stating  that  the 
rebels  had  formed  themselves  into  two  parties,  under  Fadle 
Mulla  Bey,  and  Selim  Bey,  and  the  party  of  the  first-named 
had  seized  all  the  ammunition  from  the  other  party,  and  had 
fled  to  Makraka.  Selim  Bey,  unable  to  muster  resolution  to 
follow  us,  preferred  to  remain  to  curse  Fadle  Mulla  Bey  and 
his  folly;  and  what  the  end  of  these  misguided  and  unprin- 
cipled men  may  be,  no  person  knows,  outside  of  that  unhappy 
region ! 

On  the  8th  -May  I  resumed  the  march '  for  the  Indian  Ocean, 
The  fifth  day's  march  brought  us  to  the  edge  of  highlands, 
whence  we  looked  down  into  a  deep  valley,  two  thousand 
six  hundred  feet  below  us.  In  width,  it  varied  from  six  to 
twenty  miles.  To  the  north,  we  could  see  a  bit  of  the  south  end 
of  Lake  Albert.  Southward,  seventy  miles  off,  was  another 
lake,  to  which  I  have  given  the  name  of  Albert  Edward ;  and 
the  surplus  waters  of  the  southernmost  lake  meandered 
through  this  valley  down  into  the  northernmost,  or  Albert 
Lake. 

Opposite  to  the  place  whence  I  looked  upon  the  Semliki 
Valley,  rose  an  enormous  range  of  mountains,  whose  summits 
and  slopes,  for  about  three  thousand  feet,  were  covered  with 
perpetual  snow.  As  the  snow-line  near  the  Equator  is  found 
at  a  little  over  fifteen  thousand  feet,  I  may  then  safely  esti- 
mate the  height  of  these  mountains  to  be  between  eighteen 
thousand  and  nineteen  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
sea.  The  singular  thing  about  these  mountains  is  that  so  many 
white  travellers  —  Sir  Samuel  and  Lady  Baker,  Gessi  Pasha, 
Mason  Bey,  Emin  Pasha,  and  Captain  Casati  —  should  have 
been  within  observing  distance  and  never  had  an  opportunity 
to  view  them. 

1  Emin's  people,  alone,  succoured  and  convoyed  to  the  Coast  by  Stanley,  numbered 
about  a  thousand.  —  D.  S. 


THE  RESCUE  OF  EMIN  371 

There  were  also  a  thousand  of  our  expedition  who  were  for 
seventy-two  days,  or  thereabouts,  within  easy  visual  distance 
of  the  phenomenon,  but  not  one  man  saw  it  until  suddenly  it 
issued  out  from  the  obscurity,  its  great  peaks  islanded  in  an 
atmosphere  of  beautiful  translucence.  And,  for  three  days  in 
succession,  the  wonderful  mountains  stood  aloft  in  glorious 
majesty,  with  an  indefinable  depth  of  opaline  sky  above, 
beyond,  and  around  them,  the  marvel  of  the  curious  and  de- 
lighted multitude!  For  three  days  I  saw  them,  spell-bound 
and  wondering. 

The  natives  generally  called  them  the  Ruwenzori  Moun- 
tains. Scheabeddin,  an  Arab  geographer,  writing  about  Anno 
Domini  1400,  says,  Tn  the  midst  of  the  Isle  of  Mogreb,  which 
is  Africa,  are  the  deserts  of  the  Negroes,  which  separate  the 
country  of  the  Negroes  from  that  of  Berbers.  In  this  isle  is 
also  the  source  of  that  great  river  which  has  not  its  equal 
upon  the  earth.  It  comes  from  the  Mountains  of  the  Moon, 
which  lie  beyond  the  Equator.  Many  sources  come  from 
these  mountains,  and  unite  in  a  great  lake.  From  this  lake 
comes  the  Nile,  the  greatest,  and  most  beautiful  of  the  rivers 
of  all  the  earth.'  This  is  only  one  of  the  many  early  authori- 
ties which  I  have  quoted  in  my  book,  'Darkest  Africa,'  to 
prove  that  the  Ruwenzori  range  forms  the  long-lost  Moun- 
tains of  the  Moon.1 

Still  another  discovery  was  that  of  the  Albert  Edward 
Nyanza  —  called  in  ancient  times  the  Sea  of  Darkness,  whose 
waters  were  said  to  be  sweeter  than  honey,  and  more  fragrant 
than  musk.  I  cannot  endorse  this  Oriental  estimation  of  their 
excellence ;  to  many,  the  waters  of  the  muddy  Missouri  would 
be  preferable ! 

Quitting  the  head-waters  of  the  Nile,  I  ascended  some  three 
thousand  feet  into  a  higher  altitude,  and  began  a  journey 
over  a  rich  pastoral  land,  which  extends  to  the  south  end  of  the 

1  These  mountains  make  a  chapter  in  the  romance  of  historical  geography.  It  was 
Stanley's  discovery  that  brought  them  out  of  the  realm  of  legend.  Not  long  before  his 
death,  he  expressed  to  the  Royal  Geographical  Society  his  'dear  wish'  that  the  range 
might  be  thoroughly  explored.  Their  ascent  was  attempted  by  many,  beginning  with 
Captain  Stairs  in  18S9,  and  the  work  was  at  last  thoroughly  and  scientifically  done  by 
H.  R.  H.,  the  Duke  of  the  Abruzzi,  in  June,  1906,  and  he  named  the  highest  range, 
Mount  Stanley,  and  the  two  highest  points,  Margherita  Peak  (16,815  *eet)  and  Queen 
Alexandra  Peak  (16,749). — D.  S. 


372  HEXRY  M.   STANLEY 

Victoria  Xyanza.  In  consideration  of  having  driven  Kabba 
Rega's  raiders  from  the  shores  of  the  Albert  Edward,  and 
freed  the  salt  lakes  from  their  presence,  I  received  hearty 
ovations  and  free  rations  from  the  various  kings  along  a  march 
of  five  hundred  miles. 

At  the  south  end  of  Lake  Victoria,  I  found  reserve  stores, 
which  had  been  deposited  there  eighteen  months  before, 
awaiting  us.  Then,  greatly  strengthened  by  a  good  rest  and 
food,  on  the  16th  September  I  left  that  lake,  having  dis- 
covered an  extension  to  it  of  six  thousand  square  miles. 

Four  days  from  the  sea,  two  American  newspaper-corre- 
spondents arrived  at  my  camp.  One  of  them,  a  representative 
of  the  'New  York  Herald/  delivered  to  me  a  supply  of  clothes, 
and  other  very  necessary  articles,  besides  a  judicious  supply 
of  good  wine,  which  cheered  us  greatly.  A  little  later,  we  met 
a  large  caravan  sent  by  Sir  William  Mackinnon,  freighted  with 
provisions  and  clothes  for  our  people. 

On  the  morning  of  the  4th  December,  1889,  Emin  Pasha, 
'  Captain  Casati,  and  myself  were  escorted  by  Major  Wissmann 
to  Bagamoyo,  the  port  opposite  Zanzibar;  and,  in  the  after- 
noon, the  porters  of  the  expedition  filed  in,  to  lay  their  weary 
burdens  of  sick  and  moaning  fellow-creatures  down  for  the 
last  time.  Our  journey  of  six  thousand  and  thirty-two  miles 
from  the  Western  Ocean  to  the  Indian  Sea  was  now  at  an  end. 

That  night  the  German  Imperial  Commissary  gave  a  ban- 
quet to  thirty-four  persons,  consisting  of  our  travellers,  Ger- 
man, British,  and  Italian  civil  and  military  officers,  and  after 
a  style  that  even  New  York  could  scarcely  excel.  The  utmost 
cordiality  prevailed,  and  laudatory  and  grateful  speeches  were 
delivered,  and  not  the  least  graceful  and  finished  was  that 
of  the  Pasha.  But  within  ten  minutes  afterwards,  while  the 
guests  were  most  animated,  the  Pasha  wandered  away  from 
the  banqueting-hall  out  into  the  balcony;  and,  presently,  in 
some  unaccountable  manner,  fell  over  the  low  wall  into  the 
street,  some  eighteen  feet  below.  Had  not  a  zinc  shed,  five 
feet  below  the  balcony  which  shaded  the  sidewalk,  broken  the 
fall,  the  accident  would  no  doubt  have  been  fatal.  As  it  was, 
he  received  severe  contusions,  and  a  sharp  concussion  of  the 
base  of  the  brain.  A  German  officer  had  him  conveyed  to  the 
hospital,  while  three  doctors  hastened  to  his  assistance.    In 


THE   RESCUE  OF  EMIN  373 

less  than  a  month  he  was  sufficiently  recovered  to  begin  ar- 
ranging his  entomological  collections. 

Up  to  the  time  of  his  fall,  it  had  been  a  pleasant  enough 
intercourse  since  leaving  Mtsora,  in  the  middle  of  June.  There 
had  been  no  grievance  or  dispute  between  him  and  any  of  our 
party.  The  most  kindly  messages  were  interchanged  daily; 
presents  and  choice  gifts  were  exchanged ;  in  fact,  our  inter- 
course was  thoroughly  fraternal.  But  his  fall  suddenly  put  a 
barrier  in  some  strange  way  between  us.  If  the  British  Consul- 
general  expressed  a  desire  to  pay  a  visit  to  him,  some  excuse 
of  a  relapse  was  given.  If  I  wished  to  go  over  to  Bagamoyo, 
his  condition  immediately  became  critical.  Surgeon  Parke, 
who  attended  to  him  for  the  first  three  weeks,  found  that 
things  were  not  so  pleasant  for  him  as  formerly.  If  I  sent  my 
black  boy,  Sali,  to  him  with  a  note  of  condolence,  and  some 
suggestion,  the  boy  was  told  he  would  be  hanged  if  he  went  to 
the  hospital  again !  To  our  officers,  Dr.  Parke  and  Mr.  Jeph- 
son,  he  freely  complained  of  the  German  officers.  My  friendly 
note,  asking  him  to  have  some  regard  to  his  reputation,  was 
at  once  shown  by  him  to  Major  Wissmann.  It  was  curious, 
too,  how  the  Pasha,  who  thought  at  Equatoria  that  his  people 
were  so  dear  to  him  that  he  professed  himself  ready  to  sacri- 
fice his  future  for  them,  dropped  his  dear  people  from  his 
mind,  and  told  them  with  a  brutal  frankness  that  he  had 
nothing  further  to  do  with  them.  The  muster  and  pay-roll  of 
the  rescued  Egyptians  was,  therefore,  not  sent  to  Egypt ;  and 
the  poor  fellows  waited  months  for  the  many  years'  pay  due 
to  them,  inasmuch  as  no  one  knew  anything  of  the  accounts. 

Finally,  in  March,  the  secret  was  out :  the  Pasha  had  en- 
gaged himself  to  the  Germans  on  the  5th  of  February ;  and 
then  it  transpired  that  all  these  strange  and  wholly  unneces- 
sary acts  were  with  a  view  to  cut  himself  adrift  from  all  con- 
nection with  his  old  friends  and  employers,  before  committing 
himself  to  a  new  employment ! 

However  benevolent  and  considerate  Emin's  English  friends 
may  have  been  disposed  to  be  towards  him,  they  were  not 
above  being  affronted  at  their  kind  offices  being  rejected  so 
churlishly,  and  from  the  offended  tone  which  the  Press  now 
assumed,  may  be  gathered  the  nature  of  my  own  feelings  when 
I  first  became  acquainted  with  his  uncertain  disposition,  and 


374  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

his  capricious  and  eccentric  nature.  But,  in  its  furious  disap- 
pointment, a  large  portion  of  the  Press  was  unable  to  dis- 
criminate between  Emin  and  me.  Day  after  day  it  lavished 
the  foulest  accusations  and  the  most  violent  abuse  against 
me.  It  was  stated  by  the  newspapers  that  I  had  captured 
Emin  by  force ;  that  I  had  been  tyrannical  and  overbearing ; 
that  the  '  Rescue,'  always  printed  with  quotation-marks,  had 
been  a  farce ;  that  I  had  destroyed  the  'civilised  edifice'  which 
Emin  had  so  laboriously  built,  etc.,  etc. ;  and  some  even  hinted 
that  it  was  I  who  had  pushed  Emin  over  the  balcony-wali. 
But  why  proceed? 

As  has  been  seen,  Emin  came  to  my  camp  of  his  own  will ; 
I  had  treated  him  with  almost  superhuman  patience ;  my  ap- 
pearance at  Kavalli  was  the  means  of  saving  his  life ;  as  for  the 
'civilised  edifice,'  Heaven  save  the  mark!  Emin's  departure 
from  that  region  broke  up  organised  slave-bands,  which,  since 
Gordon's  death,  had,  under  the  mask  of  government,  com- 
mitted as  much  devastation,  robbery,  and  slave-raiding,  as 
even  the  Manyuema  had  been  guilty  of. 

Before  many  months  had  passed,  the  Germans  in  their 
turn  began  to  be  enlightened  as  to  the  true  character  of  their 
eccentric  countryman ;  and  the  German  Commissioner,  who 
had  toiled  so  hard  to  secure  Emin  from  the  British,  affected 
to  be  seriously  pained  and  aggrieved  by  his  pranks.  After 
a  few  weeks'  work,  establishing  three  military  stations,  he 
appears  to  have  become  involved  in  a  most  unfortunate  inci- 
dent. The  story  goes  that  he  came  across  a  large  caravan 
belonging  to  four  Arabs,  whose  goods  he  wished  to  purchase 
at  his  own  price.  The  traders  were  reluctant  to  forfeit  their 
hopes  of  gain,  which  had  induced  the  venture,  and  declined 
Emin's  terms;  whereupon,  it  is  alleged,  a  charge  of  slave- 
trading  was  trumped  up  against  them,  their  goods  were  seized, 
and  they  themselves  were  drowned  in  Lake  Victoria. 

News  of  this  had  no  sooner  reached  the  coast,  than  the 
Commissioner,  after  communicating  with  Berlin,  received 
orders  to  recall  him.  Before  this  order  could  reach  him,  Emin 
had  thrown  up  his  appointment,  taken  German  soldiers,  in 
Government  employ,  and  entered  British  territory  with  the 
idea  of  accomplishing  some  project  hostile  to  English  interests. 
With  this  view  he  continued  his  journey  to  Kavalli,  where  he 


.who 

:. ::.:: 

-  •.:.::■ 

^  caravan 

fcrfct 

■^e  of  slave- 


THE   RESCUE  OF  EMIN  375 

met  his  old  rebellious  officers  from  the  Equatorial  Province. 
They  were  implored  to  enlist  under  his  banner ;  but,  with  the 
exception  of  a  few  slaves,  who  soon  after  deserted  him,  the 
rebels  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  his  appeals. 

Baffled  by  what  he  called  their  '  ingratitude  and  perverse- 
ness,'  he  headed  West,  dismissed  his  only  white  companion, 
and  soon  after  plunged  into  the  Great  Forest,  where  he  came 
across  an  old  acquaintance,  Ismaili,  who,  in  1887,  had  almost 
made  an  end  of  Nelson  and  Parke.  This  man  he  succeeded  in 
securing  as  guide  towards  the  Congo.  Four  days'  march  from 
Kibongi,  above  Stanley  Falls,  Emin  had  the  ill-luck  to  meet 
Said-bin -Abed,  a  kinsman  of  one  of  the  Arabs  alleged  to  have 
been  drowned  in  the  Lake.  The  Arab  turned  upon  his  slave 
Ismaili,  and  upbraided  him  savagely  for  guiding  such  an  en- 
emy into  the  Arab  country,  and  ordered  Ismaili  immediately 
to  kill  him ;  whereupon  Emin  was  seized,  thrown  upon  the 
ground,  and,  while  his  assistants  held  him  fast  by  the  arms  and 
legs,  Ismaili  drew  his  sword,  and  smote  his  head  off.  What  a 
strange,  eventful  history,  for  this  commonplace  epoch  of  ours! 

The  unselfish  joy  which  caused  each  man,  black  and  white, 
to  raise  that  shout  of  exultation  when  we  first  beheld  Lake 
Albert,  and  knew  that  the  goal  was  won,  and  that  the  long 
train  of  sad  memories  had  been  left  behind,  deserved  that  I 
should  have  been  able  to  pay  Emin  Pasha  the  uttermost 
honour;  but  it  was  simply — impossible. 

I  console  myself,  however,  that  through  this  mission,  I  have 
been  supplied  with  a  store  of  remarkable  reminiscences ;  that 
I  have  explored  the  heart  of  the  great,  primeval  forest ;  that  I 
have  had  unique  experiences  with  its  pigmies  and  cannibals ; 
that  I  have  discovered  the  long-lost,  snowy  Mountains  of  the 
Moon,  the  sources  of  the  Albertine  Nile,  also  Lake  Albert 
Edward,  besides  an  important  extension  of  the  Victoria 
Nyanza ;  and  that  finally,  through  my  instrumentality,  four 
European  Governments  (British,  French,  German,  and  Por- 
tuguese) have  been  induced  to  agree  what  their  several  spheres 
of  influence  shall  be  in  the  future,  in  the  Dark  Continent, 
with  a  view  to  exercising  their  beneficent  powers  for  its  re- 
demption from  the  state  of  darkness  and  woe  in  which  it  has 
too  long  remained. 


376  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

In  England  there  arose  bitter  controversies  over  stories  of  mis- 
doings by  some  of  the  Rear-Column.  There  is  no  occasion  to  reopen 
these  controversies ;  but  Stanley  in  a  letter,  cabled  from  America  to 
the  'Times,'  dealt  with  the  imputations  that  cruelty  to  the  natives 
was  an  ordinary  incident  of  English  advance  in  Africa,  and  this 
expression  of  his  sentiments  deserves  permanent  record. 

To  the  Editor  of  the  'Times.' 

Sir  :  —  Now  that  the  storm  of  controversy  as  to  the  rear- 
guard of  the  Emin  Relief  Expedition  has  somewhat  cleared 
away,  and,  as  an  appendix,  if  I  may  so  call  it,  to  my  letter  of 
December  3,  I  will  ask  you  to  allow  me  a  few  more  words, 
final  words,  on  my  part,  as  I  hope,  and  dealing  mainly  with  the 
most  serious  aspect  of  the  affair  —  the  impression  produced 
upon  other  nations  by  the  disclosure  of  certain  acts  done  by 
Englishmen  in  Africa. 

It  is  hardly  yet  time  for  me  to  express  the  sorrow  I  truly 
feel  at  the  pain  these  inevitable  disclosures  have  brought  upon 
men  and  women  innocent  of  any  fault ;  but  no  one  is  likely 
to  question  the  earnestness  of  my  regret  at  a  result  so  directly 
counter  to  the  wishes  close  to  my  heart.  As  it  is,  this  is  an 
opportunity  given  to  competing  nations  to  cast  a  slur  upon 
British  enterprise  in  Africa.  Beyond  and  above  any  personal 
question  whatever  stands  the  honour  of  the  English  name.  I 
wish,  therefore,  to  say,  with  whatever  weight  my  long  experi- 
ence may  give  my  words,  that  I  believe  that  conduct  such 
as  that  above  alluded  to  is  entirely  unusual  and  exceptional 
among  Englishmen  engaged  in  pioneering  work  in  Africa. 

I  believe  no  nation  has  surpassed  the  English  in  tone, 
temper,  and  principle,  in  dealing  with  the  Negro  races ;  on  the 
other  hand,  there  have  been  many  English  explorers,  from  my 
revered  master,  David  Livingstone,  down  to  my  own  com- 
rades in  the  Advance  Guard  of  this  last  expedition,  who  have 
united,  in  quite  a  singular  degree,  gentleness  with  valour. 

For  myself,  I  lay  no  claim  to  any  exceptional  fineness  of 
nature ;  but  I  say,  beginning  life  as  a  rough,  ill-educated,  im- 
patient man,  I  have  found  my  schooling  in  these  very  African 
experiences  which  are  now  said  by  some  to  be  in  themselves 
detrimental  to  European  character.  I  have  learnt  by  actual 
stress  of  imminent  danger,  in  the  first  place,  that  self-control 
is  more  indispensable  than  gunpowder,  and,  in  the  second 


THE   RESCUE  OF  EMIN  377 

place,  that  persistent  self-control  under  the  provocation  of 
African  travel  is  impossible  without  real,  heartfelt  sympathy 
for  the  natives  with  whom  one  has  to  deal.  If  one  regards 
these  natives  as  mere  brutes,  then  the  annoyances  that  their 
follies  and  vices  inflict  are  indeed  intolerable. 

In  order  to  rule  them,  and  to  keep  one's  life  amongst  them, 
it  is  needful  resolutely  to  regard  them  as  children,  who  require, 
indeed,  different  methods  of  rule  from  English  or  American 
citizens,  but  who  must  be  ruled  in  precisely  the  same  spirit, 
with  the  same  absence  of  caprice  and  anger,  the  same  essential 
respect  to  our  fellow-men. 

In  proof  of  the  fact  that  British  explorers,  as  a  whole,  have 
learnt  these  lessons,  I  would  point  simply  to  the  actual  state 
of  British  influence  in  Africa.  That  influence,  believe  me, 
could  neither  have  been  acquired,  nor  maintained,  by  physical 
force  alone. 

So  long  as  Englishmen  in  Africa  continue  in  the  future  the 
conduct  which  has,  on  the  whole,  distinguished  them  in  the 
past,  I  fear  for  them  no  rivalry  in  the  great  work  of  tropical 
civilisation,  a  work  which  cannot  be  successfully  carried  out 
in  the  commercial,  and,  still  less  in  the  military,  spirit  alone. 

It  is  only  by  shewing  ourselves  superior  to  the  savages,  not 
only  in  the  power  of  inflicting  death,  but  in  the  whole  manner 
of  regarding  life,  that  we  can  attain  that  control  over  them 
which,  in  their  present  stage,  is  necessary  to  their  own  welfare, 
even  more  than  to  ours. 

Africa  is  inhabited  not  by  timid  Hindoos,  or  puny  Aus- 
tralian aborigines,  but  by  millions  of  robust,  courageous  men. 
It  is  no  cant  or  sentimentalism,  it  is  an  obvious  dictate  of  ordi- 
nary7 prudence,  to  say  that,  if  we  are  to  hold  these  men  in 
such  control  as  shall  make  Africa  equal  to  any  continent  in 
serviceableness  to  mankind  at  large,  it  is  by  moral  superiority, 
first  of  all,  that  control  must  be  won,  and  must  be  maintained, 
as  far  as  any  white  man  can  hope  to  maintain  it. 

Yours  truly, 

Henry  Morton  Stanley. 

Washington.  Dec.  8th,  1890. 

In  judging  of  human  achievement,  we  may  take  Browning's  view, 

'  Life  's  just  the  stuff 
To  test  the  soul  on.' 


378  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

Never  was  there  an  experience  which  more  displayed  and  de- 
veloped the  grandest  qualities  of  manhood,  than  did  this  march 
through  Darkest  Africa,  in  chief,  lieutenants,  and  followers. 

The  outward  results  should  not  be  under-estimated,  and  the  net 
outcome  is  well  given  in  a  letter  of  Sir  George  Grey,  written  three 
years  afterwards,  when  he  was  fresh  from  reading,  not  Stanley's 
story,  but  Parke's. 

Auckland,  February  24th,  1892. 

My  dear  Stanley, 

I  have  been  reading  the  Journal  of  your  surgeon,  Mr.  Parke. 
From  it  I  understood  for  the  first  time  what  you  had  accomplished. 
I  had  looked  at  the  whole  expedition  more  as  a  matter  of  exploration 
than  anything  else,  and  thought  that  scant  justice  had  been  done 
you.   Now,  I  regard  what  you  accomplished  as  an  heroic  feat. 

Let  me  put  it  to  you  from  my  point  of  view.  Great  Britain,  in 
pursuit  of  a  great  object,  had,  through  the  proper  authorities,  sent 
an  officer  to  rule  a  great  province.  He  was  accompanied  by  an  Egyp- 
tian force,  acting  under  his  orders,  that  is,  under  those  of  British 
authorities;  and  the  forces  and  civil  officers  were  accompanied  by 
wives,  children,  servants,  and  followers  of  every  kind.  They  formed 
an  offshoot  from  Khartoum,  but  very  remote  from  it. 

Disturbances  arose  in  the  country,  Khartoum  and  its  depend- 
encies were  cut  off  from  intercourse  with  the  external  world.  Great 
Britain  determined  to  rescue  her  officers,  and  undertook  to  do  so 
by  the  only  route  used  by  civilised  man,  that  is,  by  the  line  of  com- 
munication which  led  from  the  northward.  She  failed ;  Gordon  fell ; 
the  attempt  was  abandoned.  Emin  Pasha,  his  provinces,  his  forces, 
his  civil  servants,  and  adherents,  with  all  their  women  and  children, 
were  abandoned  to  their  fate;  but  held  out.  Emin  Pasha  naturally 
strove  to  communicate  with  Europe,  imploring  to  be  extricated 
from  his  difficulties.  His  strong  appeals  roused  sympathy,  and 
shame  at  his  abandonment. 

It  was  determined  to  rescue  him.  How  was  this  to  be  done?  The 
only  route  by  which  this  could  be  done  was  by  reaching  him  from 
the  southward.  But  what  a  task  was  this  —  an  almost  hopeless  one ! 

What  a  journey  from  the  East  Coast,  or  West  Coast,  before  one 
could  turn  northward  and  reach  him!  What  difficult  regions,  in 
many  parts  unknown,  to  traverse!  What  wilds  and  forests  to  tra- 
verse! What  barbarous  tribes  to  confront!  By  what  means  were 
the  requisite  arms,  ammunition,  and  supplies,  to  be  carried,  which 
would  enable  Emin  to  continue  to  hold  his  own,  if  he  chose  to  re- 
main ;  or  enable  you  all  to  force,  if  necessary,  your  way  to  some  port 
where  you  could  embark? 

Undaunted  by  these  evident  difficulties,  you  undertook  this  task. 
After  truly  severe  exertions,  you  reach  him.  He  joins  you,  emerges 
from  his  difficulties  with  all  his  followers.  You  have  saved,  at  great 
sacrifices,  portions  of  the  arms  and  ammunition  on  which  the  safety 
of  all  depends.   You  now  find  that  nearly  a  thousand  human  beings, 


(Facsimile) 


2, RICHMOND   TERRACE, 
WHITEHALL,  S.W. 


C    6-r~*~L     (y^    iLe^^i    tvWK     'vvvi^'  ^r- 


J    ct*-4  t*>-tf£As€-M.    tt~+*  *4^  i*m^4    tttM^,     £r-iLs 


THE   RESCUE  OF   EMIN  379 

men,  women,  and  children,  are  committed  to  your  care.  These  you 
are  to  conduct  by  a  long  perilous  route  to  a  port,  where  they  embark 
for  Egypt.  The  whole  native  population  along  a  great  part  of  the 
route  is  hostile,  or  alarmed  at  this  great  body  of  armed  men  and 
their  families  invading  their  territories.  They  can  little  understand 
that  they  are  returning  to  their  homes.  If  so,  why  do  they  not  re- 
turn by  the  same  way  by  which  they  left  them?  Naturally  they 
view  with  suspicion  and  alarm  this  worn,  diseased  multitude,  which 
they  are  often  ill  able  to  supply  with  sufficient  food  to  save  them 
from  starvation. 

Yet  this  body  of  human  beings  you  have  to  supply  with  rations, 
with  arms,  with  medicines ;  without  horses  or  carriages  of  any  kind, 
the  sick  and  wounded  had  to  be  moved ;  little  children  and  famishing 
mothers  had  to  be  got  along  somehow ;  through  long  and  exhausting 
marches,  water  had  to  be  found,  wild  beasts  kept  off,  who,  notwith- 
standing all  precautions,  carried  off  several  little  ones  in  the  night. 
You  had  quarrels  and  animosities  to  compose,  discipline  to  preserve 
amongst  men  of  various  races  and  languages,  and  a  multitude  of 
other  cases  to  meet ;  yet  you  were  in  ill  health  yourself,  worn  by  great 
toils  in  previous  years,  and  in  an  unhealthy  climate,  which  rendered 
men  fretful,  sullen,  and  careless  of  life.  Nevertheless,  you  accom- 
plished your  task,  and  led  your  people  —  but  a  residue  of  them, 
indeed  —  to  a  port  of  safety,  without  reward  and  without  promo- 
tion, or  recognition  from  your  country. 

I  have  thought  over  all  history,  but  I  cannot  call  to  mind  a 
greater  task  than  you  have  performed.  It  is  not  an  exploration, 
alone,  you  have  accomplished ;  it  is  also  a  great  military  movement, 
by  which  those  who  were  in  the  British  service  were  rescued  from  a 
position  of  great  peril. 

Most  truly  yours, 

George  Grey.1 

1  The  Rt.  Hon.  Sir  George  Grey,  K.  C.  B.,  'Soldier,  Explorer,  Administrator,  States- 
man, Thinker,  and  Dreamer,'  to  quote  James  Milne,  was  born  in  1812,  and  died  in 
1898.    He  was  buried  in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  being  accorded  a  public  funeral. 

Governor  of  South  Australia,  when  twenty-nine,  he  was  subsequently  twice  Governor, 
and,  later,  Premier,  of  New  Zealand ;  appointed  as  the  first  Governor  of  Cape  Colony, 
1854-59,  Sir  George  Grey,  by  a  daring  assumption  of  personal  responsibility,  'prob- 
ably saved  India,'  as  Lord  Malmesbury  said,  by  diverting  to  India  British  troops  meant 
for  China,  and  also  despatching  re-enforcements  from  the  Cape  —  the  first  to  reach 
India  —  on  the  outbreak  of  the  Mutiny. 

He  was  active  in  English  public  life  in  1868-70,  and  in  Australian  affairs  in  1870-94 
(Milne's  Romance  of  a  Proconsul). 

Referring  to  Sir  George  Grey's  masterly  despatches,  with  their  singularly  clear  and 
definite  analysis  of  the  conditions  of  South  Africa,  Basil  Worsfold  (History  of  South 
Africa,  in  Dent's  Temple  Series)  says, '  In  so  far  as  any  one  cause  can  be  assigned  for  the 
subsequent  disasters,  both  military  and  administrative,  of  the  British  Government  in 
South  Africa,  it  is  to  be  found  in  the  unwillingness  of  the  "man  in  Downing  Street" 
to  listen  to  the  man  at  Cape  Town.' 


380  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 


PART   II.     PRIVATE    REFLECTIONS 

The  foregoing  pages  are  compiled  partly  from  unpublished  papers 
of  Stanley's,  and  partly  from  his  private  Journals.  Some  further 
passages  may  here  be  given  from  private  note-books,  written  in  his 
leisure.  The  writing  was  evidently  prompted  by  an  impulse  of  self- 
defense  ;  partly,  with  regard  to  Emin,  whose  real  name  was  Edouard 
Schnitzer,  and,  partly,  as  the  result  of  strictures  on  his  own  char- 
acter as  a  commander,  in  the  published  Journals  of  some  of  his 
lieutenants.  The  perspective  of  events  changes  rapidly  with  time, 
and  Emin  has  so  fallen  into  the  background  of  history,  that  it 
seems  unnecessary  to  cite  the  many  instances  of  his  baffling  behaviour 
and  egregious  weaknesses  through  his  devious  career. 

STANLEY   ON   THE    PERSONNEL   AND    TRIALS   OF    THE    EXPEDITION 

As  to  his  lieutenants,  the  limitations  of  space  forbid  a  full  quo- 
tation of  Stanley's  frank  and  dramatic  account  of  the  difficulties 
in  the  early  part  of  the  march.  There  was  a  sharp  difference  before 
leaving  the  Congo.  The  Zanzibaris  preferred  formal  complaint 
against  two  officers,  for  beating  them,  and  taking  away  their  food ; 
the  officers,  each  in  turn,  being  summoned  to  the  scene,  made  a  hot 
defence,  in  such  language  and  manner  that  Stanley  dismissed  them 
from  the  expedition  on  the  spot.  One  of  their  brother  officers  inter- 
ceded, and  was  told  that  the  lieutenants'  disrespect  was  evidently 
the  culmination  of  secret  disaffection  and  grumbling.  Stanley  said 
to  them:  — 

'Never  a  sailing-ship  sailed  from  a  port  but  some  of  the 
crew  have  taken  the  first  opportunity  to  "try  it  on"  with  the 
captain.  In  every  group,  or  band,  of  men,  it  appears  to  be  a 
rule  that  there  must  be  a  struggle  for  mastery,  and  an  attempt 
to  take  the  eader's  measure,  before  they  can  settle  down 
to  their  proper  position.  I  hope  you  who  remain  will  under- 
stand that  there  can  be  only  one  chief  in  command  in  this 
expedition,  and  I  am  that  chief,  and  in  all  matters  of  duty 
I  expect  implicit  obedience  and  respect.' 

Thus  Stanley  addressed  his  officers;  the  two  who  had  offended 
made  manly  apologies,  which  were  accepted,  and  they  were  re- 
stored to  their  places.  With  the  handshake  of  reconciliation  the 
incident  terminated,  so  far  as  Stanley  was  concerned.  But  what  he 
calls  'stupid  personalities,'  in  certain  published  Diaries,  moved  him 
to  write  out  his  own  full  and  private  statement  of  this,  and  some 
later  fictions,  which  there  seems  no  occasion  now  to  reproduce. 


THE   RESCUE  OF   EMIN  381 

But  we  are  indebted  to  it  for  sorrie  portraitures,  as  well  as  for  an 
exposition  of  the  social  and  individual  experiences,  generated  in  the 
African  wilds,  which  may  well  be  given  here. 

For  one  so  young,  Stairs's  abilities  and  sterling  sense  were 
remarkable ;  and,  in  military  pliancy  at  the  word  of  command, 
he  was  a  born  soldier.  This  is  a  merit  which  is  inestimable  in 
a  tropical  country,  where  duty  has  to  be  done.  A  leader  in  a 
climate  like  that  of  Africa,  cannot  sugar-coat  his  orders,  and 
a  certain  directness  of  speech  must  be  expected ;  under  such 
fretting  conditions  as  we  were  in,  it  was  a  source  of  joy  to  feel 
that  in  Stairs  I  had  a  man,  who,  when  a  thing  had  to  be 
done,  could  face  about,  and  proceed  to  do  it,  as  effectively  as 
I  could  do  it  in  person.  In  the  way  of  duty  he  was  without 
reproach. 

Surgeon  Parke's  temper  was  the  best-fitted  for  Africa.  With 
his  unsophisticated  simplicity,  and  amusing  naivete,  it  was 
impossible  to  bear  a  grudge  against  him.  Outside  of  his  pro- 
fession, he  was  not  so  experienced  as  Stairs.  When  placed 
in  charge  of  a  company,  his  muster-book  soon  fell  into 
confusion ;  but  by  the  erasures,  and  re-arrangements,  it  was 
evident  that  he  did  his  best.  Such  men  may  blunder  over 
and  over  again,  and  receive  absolution.  He  possessed  a  fund 
of  genuine  wit  and  humour ;  and  the  innocent  pleasure  he 
showed  when  he  brought  smiles  to  our  faces,  endeared  him 
to  me.  This  childlike  naivete,  which  distinguished  him  in 
Africa,  as  in  London  society,  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  the 
affectionateness  with  which  everyone  regarded  him.  But  he 
was  super-excellent  among  the  sick  and  suffering;  then  his 
every7  action  became  precise,  firm,  and  masterful.  There  was 
no  shade  of  doubt  on  his  face,  not  a  quiver  of  his  nerves ;  his 
eyes  grew  luminous  with  his  concentrated  mind.  Few  people 
at  home  know  what  an  African  ulcer  is  like.  It  growTs  as  large 
as  the  biggest  mushroom ;  it  destroys  the  flesh,  discloses  the 
arteries  and  sinews,  and  having  penetrated  to  the  bone,  con- 
sumes it,  and  then  eats  its  way  round  the  limb.  The  sight  is 
awful,  the  stench  is  horrible;  yet  Parke  washed  and  dressed 
from  twenty  to  fifty  of  such  hideous  sores  daily,  and  never 
winced.  The  young  man's  heart  was  of  pure  gold.  At  such 
times,  I  could  take  off  my  cap,  out  of  pure  reverence  to  his 
heroism,   skill,   and   enduring  patience.    When   Stairs  was 


382  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

wounded  with  a  poisoned  arrow,  he  deliberately  sucked  it, 
though,  had  the  poison  been  fresh,  it  might  have  been  a  highly 
dangerous  proceeding.  All  the  whites  passed  through  his 
hands;  and,  if  they  do  not  owe  their  lives  to  him,  they  owed 
him  a  great  debt  of  gratitude  for  relief,  ease,  and  encourage- 
ment, as  well  as  incomparable  nursing. 

Personally,  I  was  twice  attacked  by  gastritis,  and  how  he 
managed  to  create  out  of  nothing,  as  it  were,  palatable  food 
for  an  inflamed  stomach,  for  such  prolonged  periods,  and  to 
maintain  his  tenderness  of  interest  in  his  fractious  patient, 
was  a  constant  marvel  to  me.  When  consciousness  returned 
to  me,  out  of  many  delirious  fits,  his  presence  seemed  to  lighten 
that  sense  of  approaching  calamity  that  often  pressed  on  me. 
Could  the  wounded  and  sick  Zanzibaris  have  spoken  their 
opinion  of  him,  they  would  have  said,  'He  was  not  a  man,  but 
an  angel ' ;  for  the  attributes  he  showed  to  the  suffering  were  so 
unusually  noble  and  exquisitely  tender,  that  poor,  wayward 
human  nature  wore,  for  once,  a  divine  aspect  to  them. 

And  Jephson,  so  honourable,  and  high-minded :  though  of 
a  vehement  character  at  first,  one  of  his  intelligence  and 
heart  is  not  long  in  adapting  himself  to  circumstances.  He 
developed  quickly,  taking  the  rough  work  of  a  pioneer  with 
the  indifference  of  a  veteran.  He  was  endowed  with  a  greater 
stock  of  physical  energy  than  any  of  the  others,  and  exhib- 
ited most  remarkable  endurance.  At  first,  I  feared  that  he 
was  inclined  to  be  too  rough  on  his  company;  but  this  was 
before  he  mastered  the  colloquial  expressions,  which,  with 
old  travellers,  serve  the  same  purpose  as  the  stick. 

When  a  young  Englishman,  replete  with  animal  vigour,  and 
braced  for  serious  work,  has  to  lead  a  hundred  or  so  raw  na- 
tives, who  cannot  understand  a  word  he  says,  a  good  deal  of 
ungentle  hustling  must  be  expected  ;  but,  as  soon  as  he  is  able 
to  express  himself  in  the  vernacular,  both  commander  and 
natives  soon  lose  that  morbid  fault-finding  to  which  they  were 
formerly  disposed,  and  the  stick  becomes  a  mere  badge  of 
authority.  Chaff,  or  a  little  mild  malice,  spiced  with  humour, 
is  often  more  powerful  than  the  rod  with  Africans.  By  the 
time  we  issued  from  the  forest,  Jephson  had  become  a  most 
valuable  officer,  with  his  strong,  brave,  and  resolute  nature, 
capable  for  any  work.    If  I  were  to  sum  up  the  character  of 


THE   RESCUE  OF  EMIN  383 

Jephson  in  one  word,  I  should  say  it  was  one  of  fine  manliness, 
and  courage. 

Nelson,  also,  was  a  fine  fellow,  with  whom  I  do  not  remem- 
ber to  have  had  a  single  misunderstanding.  Considering  that 
we  were  a  thousand  and  thirty  days  together  in  Africa,  and 
in  the  gloomiest  part  of  it,  for  most  of  that  time,  it  appears 
to  me  wonderful  that  we  '  pulled  together '  so  well. 

India  is  a  very  old  land,  and  provides  countless  aids  to 
comfort,  which  are  a  great  balm  for  trouble.  Yet,  as  the  Congo 
climate  is  more  trying  than  that  of  India,  and  is  quite  barren 
of  the  'comforts'  which  are  supposed  to  sweeten  an  English- 
man's temper,  it  ought  not  to  be  expected  that  five  English- 
men should  have  been  able  to  pierce  through  darkest  Africa 
without  a  tiff  or  two. 

As  the  preceding  chapter '  records  all  the  misunderstandings 
that  occurred  between  us,  I  felt  justified  on  reaching  the  sea 
in  saying,  '  Well  done '  to  each  of  them.  Not  even  a  saint  is 
proof  against  a  congested  liver,  and  a  miserable  diet  of  horse- 
food  and  animal  provender ;  and,  yet,  during  their  severe  ex- 
periences of  the  Forest,  the  officers  were  in  better  temper  than 
when,  ascending  the  Congo,  they  enjoyed  regular  meals.  The 
toughest  human  patience  may  be  stretched  to  breaking  when 
fever  is  rioting  in  the  veins,  when  the  head  is  filled  with  hot 
blood,  and  the  poor  victim  of  malaria  is  ready  to  sink  with 
his  burden  of  responsibilities,  when  black  servants  take  ad- 
vantage of  their  master's  helplessness,  and  a  thoughtless 
companion  chooses  that  inopportune  moment  to  air  his  griev- 
ances, or  provoke  a  discussion.  When  one  is  recovering  from 
a  fever,  his  senses  racked,  his  ears  in  a  tumult  with  quinine, 
his  loins  aching  with  inflamed  vitals,  it  is  too  much  to  expect  a 
sufferer,  at  this  stage,  to  smile  like  a  full-fed  dreamer  at  home. 

One  of  my  precautions  against  these  intermittent  periods  of 
gloom  and  bitterness,  when  the  temper  is  tindery,  was  to  mess 
separately.  Years  ago,  the  unwisdom  of  being  too  much  to- 
gether had  been  forcibly  impressed  on  me ;  I  discovered  that 
my  remarks  formed  too  much  'copy  '  for  note-books,  and  that 
my  friends  were  in  the  habit  of  indiscriminately  setting  down 
every  word,  too  often  in  a  perverted  sense,  and  continually 
taking  snap-shots  at  me,  without  the  usual  formula  of  the 

1  This  refers  to  an  unpublished  private  Journal,  from  which  this  is  an  extract.  —  D.  S. 


384  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

photographer,  '  Look  pleasant,  please !  '  On  the  Congo,  it  is 
too  hot  to  stand  on  an  open-air  pedestal  for  long !  One  must 
be  in  'undress,'  occasionally;  and  during  such  times  he  is  not 
supposed  to  be  posing  for  the  benefit  of  Fleet  Street !  Then, 
upon  the  strength  of  table  acquaintance,  I  found  that  the 
young  men  were  apt  to  become  overweening,  familiar,  and 
oblivious  of  etiquette  and  discipline.  From  that  date,  I 
took  to  living  alone,  by  which  my  judgement  of  my  subordi- 
nates was  in  no  danger  of  being  biassed  by  their  convivial 
discourse ;  and  I  was  preserved  from  the  contempt  which  too 
often  proceeds  from  familiarity. 

No  doubt,  I  was  debarred  by  this  isolation  from  much  that 
was  entertaining  and  innocent,  as  well  as  deprived  of  that 
instruction,  which  simple  youngsters  of  the  jolly,  and  silly, 
age  are  prone  to  impart  to  their  seniors ;  but  that  was  my  loss, 
not  theirs.  On  the  other  hand,  my  opinions  of  them  were  not 
likely  to  be  tinctured  by  malicious  gossip,  which  is  generally 
outspoken  at  a  dining-table,  or  in  a  camp ;  and  I  certainly  dis- 
countenanced grumblers  and  cavillers.  On  an  African  ex- 
pedition, there  often  arises  a  necessity  for  sudden  orders,  which 
must  be  followed  by  prompt  obedience,  and  the  stern  voice 
and  peremptory  manner  at  such  times  are  apt  to  jar  on  the 
nerves  of  a  subaltern,  whose  jokes  were  lately  received  with 
laughter,  unless  he  be  one  whose  temper  is  controlled  by  his 
judgement. 

When  a  young  white  officer  quits  England  for  the  first 
time,  to  lead  blacks,  he  has  got  to  learn  and  unlearn  a  great 
deal.  All  that  he  knows  is  his  mother-tongue,  and  the  art  of 
reading,  writing,  and  criticising.  In  Africa,  he  finds  himself 
face  to  face  with  a  new  people,  of  different  manners  and  cus- 
toms, with  whom  he  cannot  exchange  a  word.  He  can  do 
nothing  for  himself ;  there  is  no  service  that  he  can  do  with 
his  arms ;  he  cannot  even  cook  his  food,  or  set  up  his  tent,  or 
carry  his  bed.  He  has  to  depend  on  the  black  men  for  every- 
thing ;  but  if  he  has  a  patient  temper  and  self-control,  he  can 
take  instruction  from  those  who  know  the  natives,  and  in 
many  little  ways  he  can  make  himself  useful.  If  he  is  fault- 
finding, proud,  and  touchy,  it  will  be  months  before  he  is  worth 
his  salt.  In  these  early  days  he  must  undeceive  himself  as  to 
his  merits,  and  learn  that,  if  he  is  humoured  and  petted  more 


THE    RESCUE  OF   EMIN  385 

than  the  blacks,  it  is  not  because  of  his  white  skin,  but  because 
of  his  childish  helplessness,  and  in  the  hope  that  when  his 
eighteen  months'  apprenticehip  is  over,  he  will  begin  to  show 
that  his  keep  was  to  some  purpose. 

We  must  have  white  men  in  Africa ;  but  the  raw  white  is 
as  great  a  nuisance  there  during  the  first  year,  as  a  military 
recruit  who  never  saw  a  gun  till  he  enlisted.  In  the  second 
year,  he  begins  to  mend ;  during  the  third  year,  if  his  nature 
permits  it,  he  has  developed  into  a  superior  man,  whose 
intelligence  may  be  of  transcendent  utility  for  directing 
masses  of  inferior  men. 

I  speak  from  a  wide  experience  of  white  men  whom  I  have 
had  under  me  in  Africa.  One  cannot  be  always  expostulating 
with  them,  or  courting  their  affection,  and  soothing  their 
amour-propre ;  but  their  excessive  susceptibility,  while  their 
bodies  are  being  harrowed  by  the  stern  process  of  acclimatiza- 
tion, requires  great  forbearance.  It  took  the  officers  some 
months  to  learn  that,  when  they  stood  at  the  head  of  their 
companies,  and  I  repeated  for  the  benefit  of  the  natives  in 
their  own  language  the  orders  already  given  to  them  in  Eng- 
lish, I  was  not  speaking  about  themselves!  By  and  by,  as 
they  picked  up  a  word  or  two  of  the  native  language,  they 
became  less  suspicious,  and  were  able  to  distinguish  between 
directness  of  speech  and  an  affront.  I,  of  course,  knew  that 
their  followers,  whom  they  had  regarded  as  merely  '  naked 
niggers,'  were  faithful,  willing,  hard-working  creatures,  who 
only  wanted  fair  treatment  and  good  food  to  make  them  love- 
able. 

At  this  early  period  my  officers  were  possessed  with  the 
notion  that  my  manner  was  '  hard,'  because  I  had  not  many 
compliments  for  them.  That  is  a  kind  of  pap  which  we  may 
offer  women  and  boys,  but  it  is  not  necessary  for  soldiers  and 
men,  unless  it  is  deserved.  It  is  true  that,  in  the  Forest,  their 
demeanour  was  heroic ;  but  I  preferred  to  wait  until  we  were 
out  of  it,  before  telling  them  my  opinion,  just  as  wages  are  paid 
after  the  work  is  finished,  and  an  epitaph  is  best  written  at  the 
close  of  life.  Besides,  I  thought  they  were  superior  natures, 
and  required  none  of  that  encouragement,  which  the  more 
childish  blacks  almost  daily  received. 

In  thinking  of  my  own  conduct  I  am  at  a  disadvantage, 


, 


386  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

as  there  is  no  likelihood  that  I  should  appear  to  others  as  I 
appeared  to  myself.  I  may  have  been  in  the  habit  of  giving 
unmeasured  offence  each  day  by  my  exclusiveness ;  but  I  was 
simply  carrying  out  what  African  experience  had  taught  me 
was  best.  My  companions  had  more  to  learn  from  me  than 
I  had  to  learn  from  them. 

For  the  first  eighteen  months  they  messed  together ;  but  dur- 
ing the  latter  half  of  the  journey,  they  also  lived  apart,  experi- 
ence having  taught  them  the  same  lesson  as  I  had  learned. 

To  some,  my  solitary  life  might  present  a  cheerless  aspect. 
But  it  was  not  so  in  reality.  The  physical  exercise  of  the  day 
induced  a  pleasant  sense  of  fatigue,  and  my  endless  occupations 
were  too  absorbing  and  interesting  to  allow  room  for  baser 
thoughts.  There  was  a  strange  poverty  about  our  existence, 
which  could  not  well  be  matched  anywhere.  The  climate 
gave  warmth,  and  so  we  needed  no  fuel  save  for  cooking.  Our 
clothing  could  only  be  called  presentable  among  naked 
people !  There  was  water  in  abundance  and  to  spare,  but  soap 
was  priceless.  Our  food  consisted  of  maize  meal  and  bananas, 
but  an  English  beggar  would  have  disdained  to  touch  it.  Our 
salt  was  nothing  better  than  pulverised  mud. 

I  was  not  likely  to  suffer  from  colds,  catarrh,  and  pneu- 
monia ;  but  the  ague  with  its  differing  intensities  was  always 
with  me.  My  bedding  consisted  of  a  rubber  sheet  and  rug 
over  a  pile  of  leaves  or  grass.  I  possessed  certain  rights  of 
manhood,  but  only  so  long  as  I  had  the  nerve  to  cause  them 
to  be  respected.  My  literature  was  limited  to  the  Bible, 
Shakespeare,  and  a  few  choice  authors,  but  my  mind  was  not 
wrung  by  envy,  scandal,  disparagement,  and  unfairness ;  and 
my  own  thoughts  and  hopes  were  a  perpetual  solace. 

It  is  difficult  for  anyone  who  has  not  undergone  experiences 
similar  to  ours  to  understand  the  amount  of  self-control  each 
had  to  exercise,  for  fifteen  hours  every  day,  amid  such  sur- 
roundings as  ours.  The  contest  between  human  dispositions, 
tempers,  prejudices,  habits,  natures,  and  the  necessity  for 
self-command,  were  very  disturbing.  The  extremest  forms  of 
repulsiveness  were  around  us,  and  dogged  us  day  by  day ;  the 
everlasting  shade  was  a  continued  sermon  upon  decay  and 
mortality;  it  reeked  with  the  effluvia  as  of  a  grave;  insects 
pursued  our  every  movement,  with  their  worries  of  stings  and 


THE   RESCUE  OF  EMIN  387 

bites,  which  frequently  ended,  because  of  our  anaemic  con- 
dition, in  pimples,  sores,  and  ulcers.  Nelson  was  crippled  with 
twenty-two  obstinate  ulcers,  Jephson's  legs  will  always  bear 
the  blue  scars  of  many  a  terrible  ulcer ;  and  I  was  seldom  free 
from  nausea. 

It  would  be  impossible  within  a  limited  space  to  enumerate 
the  annoyances  caused  by  the  presence  of  hundreds  of  dis- 
eased individuals  with  whom  we  travelled.  Something  or  other 
ailed  them  by  scores,  daily.  Animate  and  inanimate  nature 
seemed  arrayed  against  us,  to  test  our  qualities  to  the  utmost. 
For  my  protection  against  despair  and  madness,  I  had  to 
resort  to  self-forgetfulness ;  to  the  interest  which  my  task 
brought;  to  the  content  which  I  felt  that  every  ounce  of 
energy,  and  every  atom  of  self  had  been  already  given  to  my 
duty,  and  that,  no  matter  what  followed,  nothing  more  could 
be  extracted  from  me.  -I  had  my  reward  in  knowing  that  my 
comrades  were  all  the  time  conscious  that  I  did  my  best,  and 
that  I  was  bound  to  them  by  a  common  sympathy  and  aims. 
This  encouraged  me  to  give  myself  up  to  all  neighbourly 
offices,  and  was  morally  fortifying. 

The  anxieties  of  providing  for  the  morrow  lay  heavy  on  me ; 
for,  in  the  savagest  part  of  Africa,  which,  unknown  to  us, 
had  been  devasted  by  Manyuema  hordes,  we  were  not  sure  of 
being  able  to  obtain  anything  that  was  eatable.  Then  again, 
the  follies  and  imprudences  of  my  black  men  were  a  constant 
source  of  anxiety  to  me,  for  raw  levies  of  black  men  are  not 
wiser  than  raw  levies  of  white  men ;  it  requires  a  calamity  to 
teach  both  how  to  live.  Xot  a  day  passed  but  the  people  re- 
ceived instruction,  but  in  an  hour  it  was  forgotten.  If  all  had 
been  prudent  with  their  food,  we  should  not  have  suffered  so 
heavily ;  but  the  mutinous  hunger  of  the  moment  obliterated 
every  thought  of  the  morrow's  wants.  How  extremely  foolish 
men  can  be,  was  exemplified  by  the  series  of  losses  attending 
ten  months  of  camp-life  at  Yambuya.1 

The  Advance  Column  consisted  of  picked  men,  sound  in 
health.  In  a  month,  however,  many  had  been  crippled  by 
skewers  in  the  path,  placed  there  by  the  aborigines;  these 
perforated  their  naked  feet,  some  suffering  from  abrasions,  or 
accidental  cuts ;  others  had  their  feet  gashed  by  the  sharp  edges 

1  This  refers  to  the  Rear-Column.  —  D.  S. 


388  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

of  oyster-shells  as  they  waded  through  the  creeks ;  the  effect 
of  rain,  dew,  damp,  fatigue,  and  scant  food,  all  combined  to 
impoverish  the  blood  and  render  them  more  liable  to  dis- 
ease. The  negligence  and  heedlessness  of  some  of  the  men 
was  astonishing :  they  lost  their  equipment,  rifles,  tools,  and 
clothing,  as  though  they  were  so  many  somnambulists,  and 
not  accountable  beings.  The  officers  were  unceasing  in  their 
exertions,  but  it  would  have  required  an  officer  for  every  ten 
men,  and  each  officer  well-fed  and  in  perfect  health,  to  have 
overseered  them  properly.  The  history  of  the  journey  proves 
what  stratagems  and  arts  we  resorted  to  each  day  to  check 
the  frightful  demoralisation.  It  was  in  the  aid  and  assistance 
given  to  me  at  this  trying  period  that  my  officers  so  greatly 
distinguished  themselves. 

I  have  frequently  been  asked  as  to  whether  I  never  de- 
spaired during  the  time  when  the  men  were  dropping  away 
so  fast,  and  death  by  starvation  seemed  so  imminent.  No,  I 
did  not  despair;  but,  as  I  was  not  wholly  free  from  morbid 
thoughts,  I  may  be  said  to  have  been  on  the  edge  of  it,  for 
quite  two  months.  '  How  will  all  this  end  ?'  was  a  question  that 
I  was  compelled  to  ask  myself  over  and  over  again ;  and  then 
my  mind  would  speculate  upon  our  slim  chances,  and  proceed 
to  trace  elaborately  the  process  of  ruin  and  death.  'So  many 
have  died  to-day,  it  will  be  the  turn  of  a  few  more  to-morrow, 
and  a  few  others  the  next  day,  and  so  on.  We  shall  continue 
moving  on,  searching  for  berries,  fungi,  wild  beans,  and  edible 
roots,  while  the  scouts  strike  far  inland  to  right  and  left ;  but, 
by  and  by,  if  we  fail  to  find  substantial  food,  even  the  scouts 
must  cease  their  search  and  will  presently  pass  away/  Then 
the  white  men,  no  longer  supplied  by  the  share  of  their  pick- 
ings, which  the  brave  fellows  laid  at  their  tent-doors,  must 
begin  the  quest  of  food  for  themselves ;  and  each  will  ask,  as 
he  picks  a  berry  here  and  a  mushroom  there,  how  it  will  all 
end,  and  when.  And  while  he  repeats  this  dumb  self-question- 
ing, little  side-shows  of  familiar  scenes  will  be  glanced  at. 
One  moment,  a  friend's  face,  pink  and  contented,  will  loom 
before  him ;  or  a  well-known  house,  or  a  street  astir  with  busy 
life,  or  a  church  with  its  congregation,  or  a  theatre  and  its 
bright-faced  audience ;  a  tea-table  will  be  remembered,  or  a 
drawing-room  animate  with  beauty  and  happiness,  —  at  least 


THE  RESCUE  OF   EMIN  389 

something,  out  of  the  full  life  beyond  the  distant  sea.  After 
a  while,  exhausted  nature  will  compel  him  to  seek  a  leafy 
alcove  where  he  may  rest,  and  where  many  a  vision  will  come 
to  him  of  things  that  have  been,  until  a  profound  darkness 
will  settle  on  his  senses.  Before  he  is  cold,  a  'scout'  will  come, 
then  two,  then  a  score,  and,  finally,  myriads  of  fierce  yellow- 
bodied  scavengers,  their  heads  clad  in  shining  horn-mail ;  and, 
in  a  few  days,  there  will  only  remain  a  flat  layer  of  rags,  at  one 
end  of  which  will  be  a  glistening,  white  skull.  Upon  this  will 
fall  leaves  and  twigs,  and  a  rain  of  powder  from  the  bores  in 
the  red  wood  above,  and  the  tornado  will  wrench  a  branch 
down  and  shower  more  leaves,  and  the  gusty  blasts  will  sweep 
fine  humus  over  it,  and  there  that  curious  compost  begun  of 
the  earthly  in  me  will  lie  to  all  eternity ! 

As  I  thought  of  this  end,  the  chief  feeling,  I  think,  was  one 
of  pity  that  so  much  unselfish  effort  should  finish  in  a  heap 
of  nothingness.  I  should  not  venture  to  say  that  my  comrades 
shared  in  such  thoughts.  I  could  see  that  they  were  anxious, 
and  that  they  would  prefer  a  good  loaf  of  bread  to  the  best 
sermon ;  but  their  faces  betrayed  no  melancholy  gravity  such 
as  follows  morbid  speculations.  Probably,  the  four  brave 
young  hearts  together  managed  to  be  more  cheerful  than  I, 
who  was  solitary ;  and  thus  they  were  able  to  cheat  their  minds 
out  of  any  disposition  to  brood. 

While,  however,  one  part  of  my  nature  dwelt  upon  stern 
possibilities,  and  analysed  with  painful  minuteness  the  sensa- 
tions of  those  who  daily  perished  from  hunger,  another  part 
of  me  was  excessively  defiant,  active  in  invention,  fertile  in 
expedients,  to  extricate  the  expedition  from  its  impending 
fate,  and  was  often,  for  no  known  reason,  exhilarant  with 
prescience  of  ultimate  triumph.  One  half  of  me  felt  quite 
ready  to  seek  a  recess  in  the  woods,  when  the  time  would  come ; 
the  other  half  was  aggressive,  and  obstinately  bent  upon  not 
yielding,  and  unceasingly  alert,  day  and  night,  in  seeking 
methods  to  rescue  us  all.  There  was  no  doubt  that  the  time 
had  come  to  pray  and  submit,  but  I  still  felt  rebellious,  and 
determined  to  try  every  stratagem  to  gain  food  for  my  people. 

The  darkest  night,  however,  is  followed  by  dawn ;  and,  by 
dint  of  pressing  on,  we  emerged  once  more,  after  two  months 
of  awful  trials,  into  a  land  of  plenty ;  but  before  we  could  say  a 


390  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

final  farewell  to  those  Equatorial  woods  much  more  had  to  be 
endured.  Jephson  had  to  retrace  his  steps,  to  convey  succour 
to  Nelson,  who  had  been  left  to  guard  a  camp  of  dying  men ; 
and  I  know  not  which  to  admire  most,  the  splendid  energy 
with  which  Jephson  hastened  to  the  help  of  his  poor  comrade, 
along  a  track  strewn  with  the  ghastly  relics  of  humanity,  or 
the  strong  and  patient  endurance  of  Nelson,  who,  for  weeks, 
was  condemned  to  sit  alone  amid  the  dying  (at  '  Starvation 
Camp'). 

Then  came  the  turn  of  Parke  and  Nelson  together,  to  strug- 
gle for  months  against  the  worrying  band  of  Manyuema, 
whose  fitful  tempers  and  greed  would  have  made  a  saint  rebel ; 
and  Stairs  had  to  return  two  hundred  miles,  and  escort,  all 
unaided,  a  long  line  of  convalescents  through  a  country  where 
one  hundred  and  eighty  of  their  fellows  had  left  their  bones. 
This  was  a  feat  second  to  none  for  the  exhibition  of  the  highest 
qualities  that  a  man  can  possess. 

The  true  story  of  those  four  would  make  a  noble  odyssey. 
While  learning  the  alphabet  of  African  travel,  they  were  open 
to  criticism,  as  all  men  must  be  when  they  begin  a  strange 
work.  They  winced  at  a  word,  and  were  offended  by  a  glance, 
and,  like  restive  colts,  untried  in  harness,  they  lashed  and 
kicked  furiously  at  me  and  everyone  else,  at  first ;  but  when 
these  men  who  had  been  lessoned  repeatedly  by  affliction, 
and  plied  so  often  with  distresses,  finished  their  epical  ex- 
periences of  the  Great  Forest,  and  issued  into  the  spacious 
daylight,  I  certainly  was  proud  of  them ;  for  their  worth  and 
mettle  had  been  well  tried,  their  sinews  were  perfectly 
strong,  their  hearts  beat  as  one,  and  their  discipline  was  com- 
plete. Each  had  been  compelled  to  leave  behind  something 
that  had  gathered,  in  the  artificial  life  of  England,  over  his 
true  self,  and  he  now  walked  free,  and  unencumbered,  high- 
hearted, with  the  stamp  of  true  manhood  on  him. 

Nor  was  the  change  less  conspicuous  in  our  dark  followers. 
The  long  marching  line  was  now  alive  with  cheerfulness.  Even 
if  one  stood  aside  on  a  hummock  to  observe  the  falling  and 
rising  heads,  one  could  see  what  a  lively  vigour  animated  the 
pace,  and  how  they  rose  to  the  toes  in  their  strides.  The 
smallest  signal  was  obeyed  by  hundreds  with  a  pleasant  and 
beautiful  willingness.    At  the  word  'Halt!'  they  came  to  a 


THE    RESCUE   OF  EMIN  391 

dead  stop  on  the  instant.  At  'Stack  loads !'  each  dropped  his 
burden  in  order;  at  the  morning  call  of  'Safari !'  there  was  no 
skulking ;  at  the  midnight  alarm,  they  leapt,  as  one  man,  to 
arms. 

We  began  now  to  re-date  our  time.  What  happened  in  the 
Forest  was  an  old,  old  story,  not  to  be  remembered ;  it  was 
like  the  story  of  toddling  childhood ;  it  is  what  happened 
after  the  Forest  days  that  they  loved  to  be  reminded  of !  '  Ah  ! 
master,'  they  would  say,  'why  recall  the  time  when  we  were 
"wayingo"  (fools,  or  raw  youths)  ?' 

What  singular  merits  we  saw  in  one  another  now !  We 
could  even  venture  upon  a  joke,  and  no  one  thought  of  being 
sullen.  We  could  laugh  at  a  man,  and  he  would  not  be  dis- 
pleased !  Each  had  set  his  life  upon  a  cast,  stood  bravely  the 
hazard  of  the  die,  and  triumphed  !  All  were  at  peace,  one  with 
another,  and  a  feeling  of  brotherhood  possessed  us,  which 
endured  throughout  the  happy  aftertime  between  the  Forest 
and  the  sea. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
WORK   IN  REVIEW 

THE  close  of  the  story  of  Stanley's  African  explorations  may 
fitly  be  followed  by  a  survey  of  the  net  result.  Such  an 
estimate  is  given  in  a  paper  by  Mr.  Sidney  Low,  in  the 
'  Cornhill  Magazine,'  for  July,  1904,  together  with  a  sketch  of  Stan- 
ley's personality,  at  once  so  just  and  so  sympathetic  that  the  entire 
article,  with  only  slight  omissions,  is  here  given  a  place. 

1  The  map  of  Africa  is  a  monument  to  Stanley,  aere  perennius.1 
There  lie  before  me  various  atlases,  published  during  the  past  sixty 
years,  which  is  less  than  the  span  of  Stanley's  lifetime.  I  turn  to  a 
magnificently  proportioned  volume,  bearing  the  date  of  1849,  when 
John  Rowlands  was  a  boy  at  school  at  Denbigh.  In  this  atlas,  the 
African  Continent  is  exhibited,  for  about  a  third  of  its  area,  as  a 
mighty  blank.  The  coast  is  well-defined,  and  the  northern  part,  as 
far  as  ten  degrees  from  the  Equator,  is  pretty  freely  sprinkled  with 
familiar  names.  We  have  Lake  Tchad,  Bornu,  Darfur,  Wadi-el- 
Bagharmi,  Sennaar,  Kordofan,  and  Khartum,  and  so  on.  But  at  the 
southern  line  of  "the  Soudan,  or  Nigritia,"  knowledge  suddenly 
ceases;  and  we  enter  upon  the  void  that  extends,  right  through  and 
across  Africa,  down  to  the  Tropic  of  Capricorn.  "  Unexplored  "  is 
printed,  in  bold  letters,  that  stride  over  fifteen  hundred  miles  of 
country,  from  the  tropical  circle  to  well  beyond  the  Equator !  The 
great  lakes  are  marked  only  by  a  vague  blob,  somewhere  in  the  in- 
terior, west  of  the  Zanzibar  territory.  The  estuary  of  the  "  Congo, 
or  Zaire  "  is  shown,  and  a  few  miles  of  the  river  inland.  After  that  we 
are  directed,  by  uncertain  dots,  along  the  supposed  course  of  the 
stream  northward,  to  where  it  is  imagined  to  take  its  rise  in  the 
Montes  Lunae,  for  which  the  map-maker  can  do  no  better  for  us 
than  to  refer,  in  brackets,  to  "  Ptolemy  "  and  "  Abulfeda  Edrisi." 

'I  pass  to  another  atlas,  dated  1871.  Here  there  is  considerable 
progress,  especially  as  regards  the  eastern  side  of  the  Continent. 
The  White  Nile  and  the  Bahr-el-Ghazal  have  been  traced  almost  to 
their  sources.  The  Zambesi  is  known,  and  the  Victoria  Falls  are 
marked.  Lakes  Victoria  Nyanza  and  Nyassa  appear  with  solid 
boundaries.  Tanganyika,  however,  is  still  uncertain,  the  Albert 
Nyanza  with  its  broken  lines  testifies  to  the  doubts  of  the  geo- 
grapher, and  the  Albert  Edward  does  not  appear  at  all ;  and  beyond 
the  line  of  the  lakes,  and  north  of  the  tenth  degree  of  south  latitude, 

1  '  Monumentum  aere  perennius,'  says  Horace,  or,  as  we  may  put  it,  'an  Everlast- 
ing memorial.'  —  D.  S. 


WORK   IN  REVIEW  393 

the  blank  of  the  interior  is  still  as  conspicuous,  and  almost  as  unre- 
lieved, as  it  was  two-and-twenty  years  earlier. 

1  By  1882,  there  is  a  great  change.  The  name  of  Stanley  has  begun 
to  be  written  indelibly  upon  the  surface  of  the  Continent.  The  vague 
truncated  "Congo,  or  Zaire"  is  the  "Livingstone  River,"  flowing 
in  its  bold  horseshoe  through  the  heart  of  the  formerly  unexplored 
region,  with  "Stanley  Falls"  just  before  the  river  takes  its  first  great 
spring  westward,  and  "  Stanley  Pool  "  a  thousand  miles  lower  down, 
where,  after  a  long  southerly  course,  the  mighty  stream  makes  its 
final  plunge  to  the  sea.  Tributary  rivers,  hills,  lakes,  villages,  tribal 
appellations,  dot  the  waste.  Uganda  is  marked,  and  Urua,  and 
Unyanyembe. 

'  If  we  pass  on  to  the  present  day,  and  look  at  any  good  recent 
map,  the  desert  seems  to  have  become  —  as,  indeed,  it  is  —  quite 
populous.  There  is  no  stretch  of  unknown,  and  apparently  unoccu- 
pied land,  except  in  the  Sahara,  and  between  Somaliland  and  the 
White  Nile.  All  the  rest  is  neatly  divided  off,  and  most  of  it  tinted 
with  appropriate  national  colours;  the  British,  red;  the  French, 
purple ;  the  German,  brown ;  the  Portuguese,  green.  In  the  map  I  am 
looking  at  there  is,  right  in  the  middle,  a  big  irregular  square  or  poly- 
gon, which  is  painted  yellow.  It  is  twelve  hundred  miles  from  north 
to  south,  a  thousand  from  east  to  west.  It  is  scored  by  the  wind- 
ing black  lines  of  rivers,  —  not  the  Congo  only,  but  the  Aruwimi, 
the  Lualaba,  the  Sankalla,  the  Ubangi.  It  is  the  Congo  Free  State, 
one  of  the  recognised  political  units  of  the  world,  with  its  area  of 
800,000  square  miles,  and  its  population  computed  at  fifteen  mil- 
lions. The  great  hollow  spaces  have  been  filled  in.  The  Dark  Con- 
tinent is,  geographically  at  any  rate,  dark  no  longer.  The  secret  of 
the  centuries  has  been  solved ! 

1  Geographical  science  has  still  its  unfulfilled  tasks  to  finish ;  but 
there  can  never  again  be  another  Stanley !  He  is  the  last  of  the  dis- 
coverers, unless,  indeed,  we  shall  have  to  reserve  the  title  for  his 
friend  and  younger  disciple,  Sven  Hedin.  No  other  man,  until  the 
records  of  our  civilisation  perish,  can  lay  bare  a  vast  unknown  tract 
of  the  earth's  surface,  for  none  such  is  left.  The  North  Pole  and  the 
South  Pole,  it  is  true,  are  still  inviolate ;  but  we  know  enough  to  be 
aware  how  little  those  regions  can  offer  to  the  brave  adventurers  who 
strive  to  pierce  their  mysteries.  There  is  no  Polar  continent,  nor 
open  Antarctic  Sea,  only  a  dreary  waste  of  lifeless  ice,  and  unchang- 
ing snow.  But  the  habitable  and  inhabited  globe  is  mapped  and 
charted  ;  and  none  of  the  explorers,  who  laboured  at  the  work  during 
the  past  fifty  years,  did  so  much  towards  the  consummation  as 
Stanley.  Many  others  helped  to  fill  in  the  blank  in  the  atlas  of  1849, 
which  has  become  the  network  of  names  in  the  atlas  of  1904. 

1 A  famous  company  of  strong  men  gave  the  best  of  their  energies 
to  the  opening  of  Africa  during  the  nineteenth  century.  They  were 
missionaries,  like  Moffat  and  Livingstone;  scientific  inquirers,  like 
Barth,  Rohlfs,  Du  Chaillu,  Teleki,  and  Thomson ;  adventurous  ex- 


394  HENRY   M.  STANLEY 

plorers,  like  Speke,  Grant,  Burton,  Cameron,  and  Selous ;  and  sol- 
diers, statesmen,  and  organisers,  such  as  Gordon,  Rhodes,  Samuel 
Baker,  Emin  Pasha,  Johnston,  Lugard,  and  Taubman  Goldie  —  but 
there  is  no  need  to  go  through  the  list.  Their  discoveries  were  made 
often  with  a  more  slender  equipment  and  scantier  resources;  as 
administrators,  one  or  two  at  least  could  be  counted  his  equals. 
But  those  of  the  distinguished  band,  who  still  survive,  would 
freely  acknowledge  that  it  was  Stanley  who  put  the  crown  and 
coping-stone  on  the  edifice  of  African  exploration,  and  so  completed 
the  task,  begun  twenty-four  centuries  ago  with  the  voyage  of  King 
Necho's  Phoenician  captains,  and  the  Periplus  of  Hanno. 

1  It  was  Stanley  who  gathered  up  the  threads,  brought  together  the 
loose  ends,  and  united  the  discoveries  of  his  predecessors  into  one 
coherent  and  connected  whole.  He  linked  the  results  of  Livingstone's 
explorations  with  those  of  Speke,  and  Grant,  and  Burton,  and  so 
enabled  the  great  lacustrine  and  riverine  system  of  Equatorial 
Africa  to  become  intelligible.  Without  him,  the  work  of  his  most 
illustrious  predecessors  might  still  have  remained  only  a  collection 
of  splendid  fragments.  Stanley  exhibited  their  true  relation  to  one 
another,  and  showed  what  they  meant.  He  is  the  great — we  may 
say  the  final  — systematiser  of  African  geography,  and  his  achieve- 
ments in  this  respect  can  neither  be  superseded  nor  surpassed,  if 
only  because  the  opportunity  exists  no  longer. 

'As  a  fact,  Stanley  not  only  completed,  but  he  also  corrected,  the 
chief  of  all  Livingstone's  discoveries.  The  missionary  traveller  was 
steadily  convinced  that  the  Nile  took  its  rise  in  Lake  Tanganyika ; 
or,  rather,  that  it  passed  right  through  that  inland  sea.  Stanley, 
when  he  had  found  the  Doctor,  and  restored  the  weary  old  man's 
spirit  and  confidence,  induced  him  to  join  in  an  exploration  trip 
round  the  north  end  of  Tanganyika,  which  proved  that  there  was  no 
river  flowing  out  of  the  lake,  and  therefore  that  no  connection  was 
possible  with  the  Nile  system.  But  Livingstone  still  believed  that  he 
was  on  the  track  of  the  great  Egyptian  stream.  He  persisted  in 
regarding  his  Lualaba  as  one  of  the  feeders  of  the  Nile,  and  he  was 
in  search  of  the  three  fountains  of  Herodotus,  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Lake  Bangweolo,  when  he  made  his  last  journey.  It  was  reserved 
for  Stanley  to  clear  up  the  mystery  of  the  Lualaba,  and  to  identify 
it  with  the  mighty  watercourse  which,  after  crossing  the  Equator, 
empties  itself,  not  into  the  Mediterranean,  but  into  the  South 
Atlantic. 

4  Stanley  regarded  himself,  and  rightly,  as  the  geographical  legatee 
and  executor  of  Livingstone.  From  the  Scottish  missionary,  during 
those  four  months  spent  in  his  company  in  the  autumn  of  1871,  the 
young  adventurer  acquired  the  passion  for  exploration  and  the 
determination  to  clear  up  the  unsolved  enigmas  of  the  Dark  Conti- 
nent. Before  that,  he  does  not  seem  to  have  been  especially  capti- 
vated by  the  geographical  and  scientific  side  of  travel.  He  liked 
visiting  strange  countries,  because  he  was  a  shrewd  observer,  with 


WORK  IN   REVIEW  395 

a  lively  journalistic  style,  which  could  be  profitably  employed  in 
describing  people  and  places.  But  the  finding  of  Livingstone  made 
Stanley  an  explorer ;  and  his  own  nature  made  him,  in  a  sense,  a  mis- 
sionary, though  not  quite  of  the  Livingstone  kind.  He  was  a  man 
who  was  happiest  when  he  had  a  mission  to  accomplish,  some  great 
work  entrusted  to  him  which  had  to  be  got  through,  despite  of  diffi- 
culties and  dangers;  and  when  the  famous  traveller  laid  down  his 
tired  bones  in  the  wilderness,  Stanley  felt  that  it  was  decreed  for  him 
to  carry  on  the  work.  So  he  has  said  himself  in  the  opening  passage 
of  the  book  in  which  he  described  the  voyage  down  the  Congo.  When 
he  returned  to  England  in  1874,  after  the  Ashanti  War,  it  was  to 
learn  that  Livingstone  was  dead :  — 

1  "The  effect  which  this  news  had  upon  me,  after  the  first  shock 
had  passed  away,  was  to  fire  me  with  a  resolution  to  complete  his 
work,  to  be,  if  God  willed  it,  the  next  martyr  to  geographical  science, 
or,  if  my  life  was  to  be  spared,  to  clear  up  not  only  the  secrets  of  the 
great  river  throughout  its  course,  but  also  all  that  remained  still 
problematic  and  incomplete  of  the  discoveries  of  Burton  and  Speke, 
and  Speke  and  Grant. 

1  "The  solemn  day  of  the  burial  of  the  body  of  my  great  friend 
arrived.  I  was  one  of  the  pall-bearers  in  Westminster  Abbey,  and 
when  I  had  seen  the  coffin  lowered  into  the  grave,  and  had  heard  the 
first  handful  of  earth  thrown  over  it,  I  walked  away  sorrowing  over 
the  fall  of  David  Livingstone." 

'  There  must  have  been  some  among  those  present  at  the  Memorial 
Service  in  Westminster  Abbey,  on  May  17,  1904,  who  recalled  these 
simply  impressive  words,  and  they  may  have  wondered  why  the 
great  Englishman  who  uttered  them  was  not  to  lie  wTith  the  great 
dead  of  England  at  Livingstone's  side. 

'It  is  not  merely  on  geographical  science  that  Stanley  has  left  a 
permanent  impress,  so  that,  while  civilised  records  last,  his  name 
can  no  more  be  forgotten  than  those  of  Columbus  and  the  Cabots, 
of  Hudson  and  Bartolomeo  Diaz.  His  life  has  had  a  lasting  effect 
upon  the  course  of  international  politics.  The  partitioning  of  Africa, 
and  its  definite  division  into  formal  areas  of  administration  or  influ- 
ence, might  have  been  delayed  for  many  decades  but  for  his  sudden 
and  startling  revelation  of  the  interior  of  the  Continent.  He  initi- 
ated, unconsciously,  no  doubt,  and  involuntarily,  the  "scramble  for 
Africa"  in  which  Germany,  France,  Great  Britain,  Italy,  Belgium, 
and  Portugal  have  taken  part.  The  opening  up  of  the  Congo  region, 
by  his  two  great  expeditions  of  1874  and  1879,  precipitated  a  result 
which  may  have  been  ultimately  inevitable,  but  would  perhaps  have 
been  long  delayed  without  his  quickening  touch.  The  political  map 
of  Africa,  as  it  now  appears,  and  is  likely  to  appear  for  many  genera- 
tions to  come,  was  not  the  work  of  Stanley;  but  without  Stanley  it 
would  not  have  assumed  its  present  shape.  His  place  is  among  those 
who  have  set  the  landmarks  of  nations  and  moulded  their  destinies. 

'  When  you  conversed  with  him,  at  least  in  his  later  years,  you 


396  HENRY   M.  STANLEY 

easily  discovered  that  he  had  a  firm  grasp  of  the  general  sequence 
of  European  and  Oriental  history,  and  a  considerable  insight  into 
modern  ethnological  and  archaeological  learning.  He  had  formed 
independent  and  original  ideas  of  his  own  on  these  subjects;  and 
when  he  talked,  as  he  sometimes  would,  of  the  Sabasans  and  the 
Phoenicians,  and  the  early  Arab  voyagers,  you  saw  that,  to  the  rapid 
observation  of  the  man  of  action,  he  had  added  much  of  the  system- 
atising  and  deductive  faculty  of  the  scholar.  He  possessed  the 
instinct  of  arrangement,  which  is  the  foundation  of  all  true  scholar- 
ship, and  perhaps  of  all  great  practical  achievement  as  well. 

'His  intellectual  power  was,  I  think,  seldom  appreciated  at  its 
true  value.  Its  full  measure  is  not  given  in  his  books,  in  spite  of 
their  vigorous  style,  their  dramatic  method  of  narration,  and  their 
brilliant  pictorial  passages;  but  nearly  everything  he  wrote  was  in 
the  nature  of  rather  hurried  journalism,  the  main  object  of  which  was 
to  explain  what  had  happened,  or  to  describe  what  had  been  seen. 
Not  in  these  graphic  volumes,  but  in  the  achievements  which  gave 
rise  to  them,  is  Stanley's  mental  capacity  made  manifest.  He  was 
not  only  a  born  commander,  prompt,  daring,  undaunted,  irresist- 
ible, but  also  a  great  administrator,  a  great  practical  thinker.  He 
thought  out  his  problems  with  slow,  thorough  patience,  examined 
every  aspect  of  them,  and  considered  all  the  possible  alternatives, 
so  that  when  the  time  came  for  action  he  knew  what  to  do,  and 
had  no  need  to  hesitate.  His  fiery,  sudden  deeds  were  more  often 
the  result  of  a  long  process  of  thought  than  of  a  rapid  inspiration. 
The  New  York  correspondent  of  the  "Times,"  who  knew  him  well, 
tells  an  illustrative  story :  — 

'  "He  and  his  whole  party  had  embarked  on  Lake  Tanganyika, 
knowing  that  the  banks  were  peopled,  some  with  friendly,  some  with 
hostile  tribes.  His  canoes  moved  on  at  a  respectful  distance  from  the 
nearest  shore.  Sometimes  the  friendly  people  came  off  to  sell  their 
boat-loads  of  vegetables  and  fruit.  "But  suppose  they  were  not 
friendly,"  said  Stanley  to  himself,  "  then,  what?  "  So  one  day  there 
approached  a  fleet  of  canoes,  with  all  the  usual  signs  of  friendly  com- 
merce. They  were  piled  high  with  bananas.  "I  thought"  (said 
Stanley)  "  they  had  a  large  supply,  and  the  boats  were  deep  in  the 
water ;  still,  there  was  nothing  that  looked  really  suspicious.  There 
were  just  men  enough  to  paddle  the  canoes;  no  more.  I  let  them 
come  close,  but  I  kept  my  eye  on  them,  and  my  hand  on  the  trigger 
of  my  elephant  gun.  They  were  but  a  few  yards  off  when  I  saw  a 
heap  of  bananas  stir.  I  fired  instantly,  and  instantly  the  water  was 
black  with  hundreds  of  armed  black  men  who  had  been  hidden 
beneath  the  banana-heaps.  I  do  not  think  many  of  them  got  ashore. 
If  I  had  stopped  to  think,  they  would  have  been  aboard  us,  and  it  is 
we  who  should  not  have  got  ashore.  But  I  had  done  my  thinking 
before  they  came  near." 

'Similarly  he  spoke  of  Gordon's  end.    "  If,"  he  said,  "  I  had  been 
sent  to  get  the  Khartoum  garrison  away,  I  should  have  thought  of 


WORK  IN   REVIEW  397 

that  and  nothing  else ;  I  should  have  calculated  the  chances,  made 
out  exactly  what  resistance  I  would  have  to  encounter,  and  how  it 
could  be  overcome,  and  laid  all  my  plans  with  the  single  object  of 
accomplishing  my  purpose."  I  believe,  though  he  did  not  say  so, 
that  he  thought  the  retreat  could  have  been  effected,  or  the  town 
held,  till  the  Relief  Column  arrived,  if  proper  measures  had  been 
taken,  and  the  one  definite  aim  had  been  kept  steadily  in  view  all  the 
time.  That  was  his  principle  of  action.  When  he  had  an  object  to 
fulfil,  a  commission  to  carry  out,  he  could  think  of  nothing  else  till 
the  work  was  done.  Difficulties,  toil,  hardships,  sacrifices  of  all 
kinds,  of  time,  of  men,  of  money,  were  only  incidents  in  the  journey 
that  led  to  a  goal,  to  be  reached  if  human  endeavour  could  gain  it. 
"No  honour,"  he  wrote,  "no  reward,  however  great,  can  be  equal 
to  the  subtle  satisfaction  that  a  man  feels  when  he  can  point  to  his 
work  and  say :  " '  See,  now,  the  task  I  promised  you  to  perform  with 
all  loyalty  and  honesty,  with  might  and  main,  to  the  utmost  of  my 
ability  is,  to-day,  finished.'  "  This  was  the  prime  article  in  Stanley's 
confession  of  faith  —  to  do  the  work  to  which  he  had  set  his  hand, 
and  in  doing  it,  like  Tennyson's  Ulysses,  — 

"  To  strive,  to  seek,  to  find,  and  not  to  yield." 

'  Both  aspects  of  his  character,  the  practical  and  the  intellectual, 
were  revealed  in  the  two  great  expeditions  of  1874  and  1879.  The 
crossing  of  Africa,  which  began  in  the  first  year,  was  a  marvellous 
performance  in  every  way.  Its  results  were  immense,  for  it  was  the 
true  opening  of  the  Equatorial  region,  and  added  more  to  geogra- 
phical knowledge  than  any  enterprise  of  the  kind  in  the  nineteenth 
century,  or  perhaps  in  any  century.  Great  conquerors  at  the  head 
of  an  army  —  an  Alexander,  or  a  Genghis  Khan  —may  have  done  as 
much ;  but  no  single  individual  revolutionised  so  large  a  tract  of  the 
earth's  surface,  with  only  a  handful  of  armed  men  and  a  slender 
column  of  camp-followers  and  attendants.  Wonderful,  indeed,  was 
the  tour  of  the  great  lakes,  the  circumnavigation  of  the  Victoria 
Nyanza,  the  conversion  of  King  Mtesa  of  Uganda,  the  unveiling  of 
the  fertile,  semi-civilised  country,  islanded  for  centuries  in  the  ocean 
of  African  barbarism,  which  is  now  a  British  Protectorate,  linked  up 
with  Charing  Cross  by  rail  and  steamer.  But  the  toilsome  journey 
up  from  the  East  Coast  was  nothing  to  that  which  followed,  when 
the  party  left  Uganda  and  turned  their  faces  to  the  Congo,  resolved 
to  follow  the  great  river  down  to  the  sea.  His  gifts  of  leadership  were 
at  their  highest  in  this  memorable  march,  from  the  time  that  he  left 
Nyangwe,  in  November,  1876,  to  his  arrival  at  Boma,  near  the 
Congo  estuary,  in  August,  1877.  He  nacl  to  be  everything  by  turn 
in  this  space  of  ten  eventful  months  —  strategist,  tactician,  geo- 
grapher, medical  superintendent,  trader,  and  diplomatist.  There 
were  impracticable  native  chiefs  to  be  conciliated,  the  devious 
designs  of  that  formidable  Arab  potentate,  Tippu-Tib,  to  be  pene- 
trated and  countered,  inexorably  hostile  savages  to  be  beaten  off  by 


398  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

hard  fighting.  The  expedition  arrived  at  Boma,  a  remnant  of  toil- 
worn  men,  weakened  by  disease,  and  very  nearly  at  the  point  of 
starvation.  Stanley's  white  companions  had  perished,  and  his  native 
contingent  had  suffered  heavily ;  but  the  allotted  task  was  accom- 
plished, and  the  silent  pledge,  registered  by  Livingstone's  grave,  had 
been  fulfilled. 

'  It  was  this  famous  journey  —  the  most  remarkable,  if  judged  by 
its  results,  in  the  whole  history  of  African  travel  —  which  placed 
Stanley's  reputation  as  a  leader  and  discoverer  on  the  highest  pin- 
nacle. It  was  not  an  unassailed  reputation.  Much  was  said  about 
his  high-handed  methods,  and  many  good  people  in  England, 
those 

"  Good  people,  who  sit  still  in  easy  chairs, 
And  damn  the  general  world  for  standing  up," 

chose  to  regard  him  as  a  sort  of  filibuster.  They  contrasted  his 
methods  with  those  of  some  of  his  predecessors  and  contemporaries, 
who  had  contrived  to  spend  years  in  Africa  without  fighting  and 
bloodshed;  but  they  did  not  allow  for  the  difference  in  the  condi- 
tions. Most  of  the  other  travellers  had  been  the  sport  of  circum- 
stances. They  had  wandered  from  place  to  place,  turned  from  their 
course,  again  and  again,  by  hostile  tribes  and  churlish  chiefs.  They 
found  out  a  great  deal,  but  not,  as  a  rule,  that  which  they  came  to 
find.  Their  discoveries  were  largely  accidental;  even  Livingstone 
was  constantly  deflected  from  his  route,  and  was  unable  to  pursue  to 
its  conclusion  the  plan  of  tracing  the  central  watershed  which  he  had 
set  before  himself.  Stanley  had  a  perfectly  definite  purpose,  which 
he  determined  to  carry  out ;  and  he  succeeded.  His  scheme  involved 
passing  through  an  immense  region,  inhabited  by  a  comparatively 
numerous  population,  of  a  higher  type  than  those  encountered 
nearer  the  coast,  more  energetic  and  more  warlike.  As  a  rule,  he 
made  his  way  among  them  by  bargain  and  negotiation ;  but,  some- 
times, he  had  to  fight  or  to  turn  back;  and  he  accepted  the  sterner 
alternative.  If  he  had  refused  to  do  so,  he  could  not  have  reached 
his  goal.  The  expedition  might  still  have  added  enormously  to  the 
sum  of  scientific  knowledge,  but  in  the  achievement  of  its  ultimate 
and  clearly-conceived  object  it  would  have  been  a  failure.  Stanley 
did  not  mean  that  it  should  fail ;  he  was  always  ready  to  sacrifice 
himself,  and  when  necessary  he  was  prepared,  as  great  men  who  do 
great  deeds  must  be,  to  sacrifice  others.  But  there  was  never  the 
smallest  justification  for  representing  him  as  a  ruthless,  iron-handed 
kind  of  privateer  on  land,  who  used  the  scourge  and  the  bullet  with 
callous  recklessness.  There  was  nothing  reckless  about  Stanley, 
except,  at  times,  his  speech.  In  action,  he  was  swift  and  bold,  but 
not  careless. 

1  To  inflict  superfluous  suffering,  to  shoot  and  slay  without  think- 
ing of  the  consequences  —  this  was  utterly  alien  to  his  systematic, 
calculating  methods.  He  would  do  it,  if  there  seemed  no  other 
means  of  gaining  the  end,  as  a  general  would  order  a  column  to 


^^m 


-tc  | 


it 


-  • ~:_ 


- 


■• :- 


WORK   IN    REVIEW  399 

destruction  to  save  his  army  and  win  a  victory.  But  he  was  essen- 
tially a  humane  man,  masterful  and  domineering,  and  yet,  an  fond, 
gentle  and  kindly,  particularly  to  the  weak  and  suffering.  Opposi- 
tion stiffened  the  obstinate  will  to  resistance;  he  was  not  a  safe 
person  to  thwart,  even  in  small  matters.  He  remembered  a  benefit, 
and  he  did  not  forget  an  injury.  It  was  said  that  he  was  unforgiving, 
and.  perhaps,  there  was  something  in  the  charge.  In  his  intense, 
self-contained  nature  wounds  rankled  long ;  and  he  had  little  of  that 
talent  for  oblivion  which  is  so  easily  developed  among  comfortable 
people,  whose  emotions  and  experiences  have  never  been  poignant 
enough  to  disturb  their  peace  of  mind. 

4  One  who  knew  Stanley  well,  and  studied  him  with  an  eye  at  once 
penetrating  and  friendly,  believed  that  through  life  he  bore  the 
characteristic  traces  of  his  Cymric  origin.  He  had  the  Welsh  peas- 
ant's quickness  of  temper,  his  warmth  of  affection,  his  resentfulness 
when  wronged,  his  pugnacity,  and  his  code  of  ethics,  ultimately, 
derived  from  John  Calvin.  Welsh  Protestantism  is  based  on  a  con- 
scientious study  of  the  biblical  text.  Stanley  carried  his  Bible  with 
him  through  life,  and  he  read  it  constantly ;  but  I  should  imagine- 
that  he  was  less  affected  by  the  New  Testament  than  by  the  pro- 
phetic and  historical  books'of  the  Hebraic  scriptures.  He  believed 
profoundlv  in  the  Divine  ordering  of  the  world ;  but  he  was  equally 
assured  that  the  Lord's  Will  was  not  fulfilled  by  mystical  dreams, 
or  bv  weak  acquiescence  in  any  wrong-doing  that  could  be  evaded 
by  energetic  action.  With  Carlyle,  he  held  that  strength  is  based  on 
righteousness,  and  that  the  strong  should  inherit  the  earth ;  and 
saw  no  reason  why  there  should  be  any  undue  delay  in  claiming  the- 
inheritance.  "The  White  Man's  Burden"  could  not  be  shirked,  and 
should,  on  the  contrary,  be  promptly  and  cheerfully  shouldered. 

'  "  It  is  useless  "  (he  wrote,  having  in  view  the  American  Indians> 
"to  blame  the  white  race  for  moving  across  the  continent  in  a  con- 
stantly-increasing tide.  If  we  proceed  in  that  manner,  we  shall 
presently  find  ourselves  blaming  Columbus  for  discovering  America,, 
and  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  for  landing  on  Plymouth  Rock !  The  whites 
have  done  no  more  than  follow  the  law  of  their  nature  and  being." 

4  He  had  his  own  idea  about  prayer.  A  man,  he  thought,  ought  to 
lay  his  supplications  before  the  Throne  of  the  Universe ;  and  he  at- 
tached great  value  to  prayers  for  deliverance  from  danger  and  dis- 
tress. But  the  answer  was  not  to  be  expected  by  wayof  a  miracle. 
The  true  response  is  in  the  effect  on  the  suppliant  himself,  in  the 
vigour  and  confidence  it  gives  to  his  spirit,  and  the  mental  exaltation 
and  clearness  it  produces.  That  was  Stanley's  opinion  ;  and  he  had 
no  great  respect  for  the  martyrs,  who  yielded  to  their  fate  with 
praver,  when  they  might  have  averted  it  by  action.  _ 

4  The  crossing  of  Africa  was  Stanley's  premier  achievement  as  a 
leader  of  men.  The  founding  of  the  Congo  State  revealed  him  as 
a  great  administrator  and  organiser.  It  was  a  wonderful  piece  of 
management,  a  triumph  of  energy,  resource,  and  hard  work.    Here 


400  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

it  was  that  Stanley  earned  the  title  which,  I  think,  gave  him  more 
satisfaction  than  the  belated  G.  C.  B.,  conferred  on  him  towards 
the  end  of  his  life.  The  natives  called  him  "Bula  Matari,"  which, 
being  interpreted,  means  M  the  Breaker  of  Rocks"  —  an  appellation 
bestowed  upon  him  by  the  brown-skinned  villagers  as  they  watched 
the  sturdy  explorer  toiling,  bare-armed,  under  the  fierce  i\frican 
sun,  with  axe  or  hammer  in  hand,  showing  his  labourers,  by  example 
and  precept,  how  to  make  the  road  from  Vivi  to  Isangela,  which 
bridged  the  cataracts  of  the  Lower  Congo,  and  opened  the  way  to 
the  upper  reaches  of  the  river. 

'The  founding  of  the  Congo  State  can  be  compared  with  the 
achievements  of  the  two  other  great  enterprises  of  our  own  time, 
which  have  converted  vast  tracts  of  primitive  African  savagery 
into  organised  states  under  civilised  administration.  But  Stanley's 
task  was  heavier  than  that  of  the  pioneers  of  Rhodesia,  and  the 
creators  of  Nigeria.  The  sphere  of  his  operations  was  longer;  the 
native  populations  were  more  numerous  and  more  utterly  untouched 
by  external  influences  other  than  those  of  the  Arab  slave-raiders; 
the  climatic  and  physical  obstacles  were  more  severe;  he  had  for- 
eign opposition  to  contend  with  from  without,  and  man}-  difficulties 
with  the  pedantry,  the  obstinacy,  and  the  greed  of  some  of  the  offi- 
cials sent  out  to  him  by  his  employers.  Yet  in  the  short  space  of  rive 
years  the  work  was  done !  The  Congo  was  policed,  surveyed,  placed 
under  control.  A  chain  of  stations  was  drawn  along  its  banks ;  syste- 
matic relations  had  been  established  with  the  more  powerful  native 
potentates ;  an  elaborate  political  and  commercial  organisation  had 
been  established ;  the  transport  difficulties  had  been  overcome,  and 
the  whole  region  thrown  open  to  trade  under  the  complicated  and 
careful  regulations  which  Stanley  had  devised.  It  was  no  fault  of 
Stanley's  if  the  work  has  been  badly  carried  on  by  his  successors, 
and  if  the  Congo  State,  under  a  regime  of  Belgian  officials,  not  al- 
ways carefully  selected,  has  not,  so  far,  fulfilled  the  promise  of  its 
inception.  So  long  as  Stanley  was  in  Africa,  no  disaster  occurred ; 
there  was  no  plundering  of  the  natives,  and  no  savage  reprisals.  If 
he  had  been  permitted  to  remain  a  few  years  longer,  the  advance  of 
the  Congo  State  might  have  been  more  rapid,  particularly  if  he  could 
have  been  seconded  by  subordinates  with  a  higher  inherited  ca- 
pacity for  ruling  inferior  races  than  Belgians  could  be  expected  to 
possess.  It  was  a  cause  of  regret  to  him,  I  believe,  that  England  did 
not  take  a  larger  share  in  this  international  enterprise. 

1  But  England  for  long  ignored  or  belittled  the  work  that  Stanley 
did.  It  was  not  till  public  opinion,  throughout  the  Anglo-Saxon  and 
Latin  world,  had  acclaimed  him  a  hero,  that  the  governing  element 
recognised  something  of  his  greatness ;  and,  to  the  very  last,  its  recog- 
nition was  guarded  and  grudging.  One  might  have  supposed  that  his 
services  would  have  been  enlisted  for  the  Empire  in  1884,  when  he 
came  back  from  the  Congo.  He  was  in  the  prime  of  life,  he  was  full 
of  vigour,  he  had  proved  his  capacity  as  a  leader,  a  ruler,  and  a 


WORK  IN   REVIEW  401 

governor,  who  had  few  living  equals.  One  thinks  that  employment 
worthy  of  his  powers  should  have  been  pressed  upon  him.  But  the 
country  which  left  Burton  to  eat  out  his  fiery  heart  in  a  second-rate 
consulship,  and  never  seemed  to  know  what  to  do  with  Gordon, 
could  not  find  a  suitable  post  for  Stanley!  I  do  not  imagine  he 
sought  anything  of  the  kind ;  but  it  seems  strange  that  it  was  not 
offered,  and  on  such  terms  that  he  would  have  found  it  difficult  to 
refuse. 

1  If  he  had  been  entrusted  with  some  worthy  imperial  commission, 
he  might  have  been  saved  from  the  fifth,  and  least  fortunate,  of 
his  journeys  into  the  interior  of  Africa.  Nothing  that  Stanley  ever 
did  spoke  more  loudly  for  his  courage,  his  resourcefulness,  and  his 
heroic  endurance,  than  the  expedition  for  the  Relief  of  Emin  Pasha. 
None  but  a  man  of  his  iron  resolution  could  have  carried  through 
those  awful  marches  and  counter-marches  in  the  tropical  forest, 
and  along  the  banks  of  the  Aruwimi.  But  the  suffering  and  pri- 
vations were  incurred  for  an  inadequate  object,  and  a  cause  not 
clearly  understood.  Many  lives  were  lost,  many  brave  men,  white 
and  black,  perished  tragically,  to  effect  the  rescue  of  a  person  who,  it 
appeared,  would,  on  the  whole,  have  preferred  not  to  be  rescued ! 

'  The  journey  from  the  Ocean  to  the  Nile,  and  from  the  Nile  to  the 
East  Coast,  added  much  to  geographical  knowledge,  and  was  the 
complement  of  Stanley's  previous  discoveries.  But  the  cost  was 
heavy,  and  the  leader  himself  emerged  with  his  health  seriously 
impaired  by  the  tremendous  strain  of  those  dark  months.  Most  of 
his  younger  companions  preceded  him  to  the  grave.  Stanley  sur- 
vived Nelson,  Stairs,  and  Parke,  as  well  as  Barttelot  and  Jameson; 
but  the  traces  of  the  journey  were  upon  him  to  the  end,  and  no 
doubt  they  shortened  his  days. 

1  Those  days  —  that  is  to  say,  the  fourteen  years  that  were  left 
to  him  after  he  returned  to  England  in  the  spring  of  1890  —  were, 
however,  full  of  activity,  and,  one  may  hope,  of  content.  No  other 
great  task  of  exploration  and  administration  was  tendered ;  and 
perhaps,  if  offered,  it  could  not  have  been  accepted.  But  Stanley 
found  plenty  of  occupation.  He  wrote,  he  lectured,  and  he  assisted 
the  King  of  the  Belgians  with  advice  on  the  affairs  of  his  Depend- 
ency. He  was  in  Parliament  for  five  years,  and  he  took  some  part  in 
the  discussion  of  African  questions.  More  than  all,  he  was  mar- 
ried, most  happily  and  fortunately  married,  and  watched  over,  and 
ministered  to,  with  tactful  and  tender  solicitude. 

1  The  evening  of  that  storm-tossed  and  strenuous  life  was  calm  and 
peaceful.  Those  who  knew  him  only  in  these  closing  years  saw  him, 
I  suppose,  at  his  best,  with  something  of  the  former  nervous,  self- 
assertive,  vitality  replaced  by  a  mellow  and  matured  wisdom. 
Whether  there  was  much  more  than  an  external  contrast  between 
the  Stanley  of  the  earlier  and  him  of  the  later  period,  I  am  unable 
to  say ;  but  one  may  suggest  that  the  change  was  in  the  nature  of  a 
development. 


402  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

'Does  any  man's  character  really  alter,  after  the  formative  season 
of  youth  is  over?  Traits,  half-hidden,  or  seldom-revealed  in  the 
fierce  stress  of  active  conflict  and  labour,  may  come  to  the  surface 
when  the  battling  days  are  done.  I  cannot  think  that  the  serene 
sagacity,  the  gentleness,  and  the  magnanimity,  which  one  noted  in 
Stanley  in  his  last  decade,  could  have  been  merely  the  fruit  of  leisure 
and  domestic  happiness.  No  doubt  the  strands  were  always  in  his 
nature,  though  perhaps  not  easily  detected  by  the  casual  eye,  so 
long  as  "  the  wrestling  thews  that  throw  the  world  "  had  to  be  kept 
in  constant  exercise. 

'  In  manner  and  appearance,  and  in  other  respects,  he  was  the  ab- 
solute antithesis  of  the  type  he  sometimes  represented  to  the  general 
imagination.  Short  of  stature,  lean,  and  wiry,  with  a  brown  face, 
a  strong  chin,  a  square,  Napoleonic  head,  and  noticeable  eyes,  — 
round,  lion-like  eyes,  watchful  and  kindly,  that  yet  glowed  with  a 
hidden  fire,  —  he  was  a  striking  and  attractive  personality;  but 
there  was  nothing  in  him  to  recall  the  iron-handed,  swash-buckling, 
melodramatic  adventurer,  such  as  the  pioneers  of  new  countries 
are  often  supposed  to  be.  The  bravest  of  the  brave,  a  very  Ney  or 
Murat  among  travellers,  one  knew  that  he  was ;  but  his  courage,  one 
could  see,  was  not  of  the  unthinking,  inconsequent  variety,  that 
would  court  danger  for  its  own  sake,  without  regard  to  life  and  suf- 
fering. What  struck  one  most  was  that  "high  seriousness,"  which 
often  belongs  to  men  who  have  played  a  great  part  in  great  events, 
and  have  been  long  in  close  contact  with  the  sterner  reality  of  things. 
His  temperament  was  intense  rather  than  passionate,  in  spite  of  the 
outbursts  of  quick  anger,  which  marked  him,  in  his  fighting  period, 
when  he  was  crossed  or  wronged.  Much,  far  too  much,  was  made  of 
his  "indiscretions  "  of  language —  as  if  strong  men  are  not  always 
indiscreet !  It  is  only  the  weaklings  who  make  no  mistakes,  who  are 
for  ever  decorous  and  prudent. 

4  Much  the  same  may  be  said  of  his  early  quarrel  with  the  Royal 
Geographical  Society.  He  did  not  find  it  easy  to  forgive  that  dis- 
tinguished body,  when  it  signified  its  desire  to  make  amends  for  the 
coldness  with  which  it  had  first  treated  him,  and  for  the  ungenerous 
aspersions,  which  some  of  its  members  had  cast  upon  his  fame. 
They  gave  him  a  dinner,  and  made  flattering  speeches  about  the 
man  who  had  succeeded.  It  was  thought  to  be  ungracious  of  Stanley 
that  he  would  not  make  up  the  quarrel,  until  he  had  vindicated  his 
own  part  of  it  by  a  bitter  recital  of  his  grievances.  But  men  who 
feel  intensely,  who  have  suffered  deeply  under  unmerited  injuries, 
and  who  have  Stanley's  defiant  sense  of  justice,  are  not  always  so 
tactful  and  polite  as  the  social  amenities  require. 

'As  it  was,  the  "  indiscretions  "  for  some  years  left  a  certain  mark 
upon  Stanley's  reputation,  and  gave  an  easy  handle  to  the  cavillers 
and  the  hypercritical,  and  to  the  whole  tribe  of  the  purists,  who  are 
shocked  because  revolutions  are  not  made  with  rose-water,  or  conti- 
nents conquered  in  kid  gloves.  Even  after  his  triumph  was  acknow- 


WORK  IN    REVIEW  403 

ledged,  after  he  had  been  honoured  by  princes,  and  had  won  his  way 
to  the  tardy  recognition  of  the  Royal  Geographical  Society,  there 
were  "superior  persons"  to  repeat  that  he  was  egotistical  and  in- 
human. 

'To  his  friends,  both  charges  must  have  seemed  absurd.  Of  per- 
sonal egotism,  of  mere  vanity,  he  had  singularly  little.  It  needed  a 
very  obtuse  observer  to  miss  seeing  that  he  was  by  nature  simple, 
affectionate,  and  modest,  with  a  wealth  of  kindness  and  generosity 
under  his  mantle  of  reserve.  He  had  a  sympathetic  feeling  for  the 
helpless,  and  the  unfortunate  —  for  animals,  for  the  poor,  and  for 
the  children  of  all  races.  On  the  march  from  Ruwenzori,  distressed 
mothers  of  Emin's  motley  contingent  would  bring  their  babies  to 
Stanley's  own  tent,  knowing  that  "  Bula  Matari  "  would  have  halted 
the  caravan  sooner  than  needlessly  sacrifice  one  of  these  quaint 
brown  scraps  of  humanity.  He  would  tell  the  story  himself;  and 
afterwards,  perhaps,  he  would  describe  how  he  made  up  the  con- 
nubial differences  of  some  jangling  couple  of  half-clad  aboriginals! 

'His  full  and  varied  experiences  were  not  easy  to  extract  from 
him,  for  he  disliked  being  "  drawn,"  and  preferred  to  talk  on  those 
larger,  impersonal  questions  of  politics,  history,  ethnology,  and 
economics,  in  which  he  never  ceased  to  be  interested.  But  his 
friends  were  sometimes  allowed  to  be  entranced  by  some  strange  and 
stirring  episode  of  African  adventure,  told  with  fine  dramatic  power, 
and  relieved  by  touches  of  quiet  humour.  He  was  not  a  witty  talker, 
but  he  had  a  fund  of  that  amused  tolerance  which  comes  of  com- 
prehending, and  condoning,  the  weaknesses  of  human  nature.  It  is 
a  trait  which  goes  far  to  explain  his  success  in  dealing  with  native 
races. 

'  In  the  House  of  Commons  he  was  not  much  at  home.  The  at- 
mosphere of  the  place,  physical  and  intellectual,  disagreed  with  him. 
The  close  air  and  the  late  hours  did  not  suit  his  health.  "lama 
man,"  he  once  said  to  the  present  writer,  "  who  cannot  stand  waste." 
The  Commons'  House  of  Parliament,  with  its  desultory,  irregular 
ways,  its  dawdling  methods,  and  its  interminable  outpourings  of 
verbose  oratory,  must  have  seemed  to  him  a  gigantic  apparatus  for 
frittering  away  energy  and  time.  He  was  glad  to  escape  from  St. 
Stephen's  to  the  Surrey  country  home,  in  which  he  found  much  of 
the  happiness  of  his  later  years.  Here  he  drained,  and  trenched,  and 
built,  and  planted ;  doing  everything  with  the  same  careful  previ- 
sion, and  economical  adaptation  of  means  to  ends,  which  he  had 
exhibited  in  greater  enterprises.  To  go  the  round  of  hip  improve- 
ments with  him  was  to  gain  some  insight  into  the  practical  side  of 
his  character. 

'  It  was  not  the  only,  nor  perhaps  the  highest,  side.  There  was 
another,  not  revealed  to  the  world  at  large,  or  to  many  persons,  and 
the  time  has  scarcely  come  to  dwell  upon  it.  But  those  who  caught 
glimpses  into  a  temple  somewhat  jealously  veiled  and  guarded,  did 
not  find  it  hard  to  understand  why  it  was  that  Stanley  had  never 


404  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

failed  to  meet  with  devoted  service  and  loyal  attachment,  through 
all  the  vicissitudes  of  the  brilliant  and  adventurous  career  which  has 
left  its  mark  scored  deep  upon  the  history  of  our  planet. 

'Sidney  Low.' 

A  further  testimony  to  the  importance  of  Stanley's  discoveries 
was  given  by  Sir  William  Garstin,  G.  C.  M.  G.,  in  a  paper  read  on 
December  15,  1908,  before  the  Royal  Geographical  Society,  on  the 
occasion  of  the  Fiftieth  Anniversary  of  the  discovery  of  the  Source 
of  the  White  Nile  by  Captain  John  Speke. 

1 1  now  come,'  said  Sir  William  Garstin,  'to  what  is,  perhaps,  the 
most  striking  personality  of  all  in  the  roll  of  the  discoverers  of  the 
Nile,  that  of  Henry  Stanley. 

'Stanley  on  his  second  expedition,  starting  for  the  interior,  on 
November  17,  1874,  circumnavigated  Lake  Victoria,  and  corrected 
the  errors  of  Speke's  map  as  to  its  shape  and  area. 

'  He  visited  the  Nile  outlet,  and  proved  that  the  Nyanza  was  a 
single  sheet  of  water,  and  not,  as  Burton  had  asserted,  a  series  of 
small,  separate  lakes. 

'On  arriving  at  Mtesa's  capital,  Stanley's  acute  mind  quickly 
grasped  the  possibilities  of  Uganda  as  a  centre  for  missionary  enter- 
prise. He  realised  that,  if  he  could  succeed  in  interesting  Great 
Britain  in  such  a  project,  a  most  important  departure  would  have 
been  made  in  the  direction  of  introducing  European  civilisation  into 
Central  Africa. 

'  First  came  his  appeal  by  letter,  followed  later  by  Stanley  himself, 
whose  eloquence  aroused  enthusiasm  in  the  English  public.  A  great 
meeting  held  in  Exeter  Hall,  resulted  in  funds  being  raised,  and  the 
first  partv  of  English  missionaries  started  for  Uganda  in  the  spring 
of  1876. 

'  This,  although  not  at  the  time  realised,  was  in  reality  the  first 
step  towards  the  introduction  of  British  rule  in  Equatorial  Africa. 

4  Stanley's  last  voyage,  and  in  some  respects,  his  greatest  expedition, 
was  undertaken  for  the  relief  of  Emin  Pasha,  at  that  time  cut  off 
from  communication  with  the  outer  world.  The  Relief  Expedition 
started  in  1887,  under  Stanley's  leadership.  This  time  Stanley 
started  from  the  Congo,  and,  travelling  up  that  river,  struck  east- 
ward into  the  Great  Forest,  which,  covering  many  thousands  of 
square  miles,  stretches  across  a  portion  of  the  Semliki  Valley  and 
up  the  western  flank  of  Ruwenzori. 

4  On  emerging  from  the  Forest,  Stanley  reached  the  Valley  of  the 
Semliki,  and,  in  May,  1888,  he  discovered  the  mountain  chain  of 
Ruwenzori. 

'  This  discovery  alone  would  have  sufficed  to  have  made  his  third 
journey  famous.  It  was  not  all,  however.  After  his  meeting  with 
Emin,  he  followed  the  Semliki  Valley  to  the  point  where  this  river 
issues  from  the  Albert  Edward  Nyanza. 

'  Stanley  was  the  first  traveller  to  trace  its  course,  and  to  prove  that 


WORK  IN   REVIEW  405 

it  connects  two  lakes  and,  consequently,  forms  a  portion  of  the 
Nile  system. 

1  When  skirting  the  north  end  of  Lake  Albert  Edward,  he  recog- 
nised that  he  had  really  discovered  this  lake  in  his  previous  journey, 
although  at  the  time  unaware  of  this  fact. 

4  Stanley  has  thus  cleared  up  the  last  remaining  mystery  with 
respect  to  the  Nile  sources. 

'  It  is  impossible  to  exaggerate  the  importance  of  Stanley's  work. 
The  main  facts  regarding  the  sources  of  the  Nile  were  finally  re- 
vealed by  him,  and  nothing  was  left  for  future  explorers  but  to  fill 
in  the  details.  This  was  a  magnificent  achievement  for  one  man  to 
have  compassed,  and  Stanley  must  always  stand  out  as  having  done 
more  than  any  other  to  clear  up,  and  to  correct,  the  errors  in  the 
geography  of  the  Nile  basin.  Stanley  not  only  completed  thoroughly 
the  work  left  unfinished  by  other  explorers,  but  added  largely  to  it 
by  his  own  remarkable  discoveries.  To  him  also  it  was  due  that  the 
first  English  Mission  was  despatched  to  Uganda. 

1  Stanley's  glowing  accounts  of  the  fertility  of  the  land  of  the 
Baganda  encouraged  British  commercial  enterprise,  and  originated 
the  formation  of  the  East  African  Chartered  Company.  As  we  now 
know,  the  inevitable  sequence  was  the  English  occupation  of  the 
country.' 

As  to  Stanley's  African  work,  one  or  two  features  may  here  be 
specially  noted.  His  master-passion  was  that,  not  of  the  discoverer, 
but  of  the  civiliser.  He  had  his  own  methods,  but  he  was  sympa- 
thetic and  helpful  toward  other  methods,  and  sometimes  adopted 
them.  To  King  Mtesa  and  his  people,  he  took  the  part  of  a  Chris- 
tian missionary  with  rare  efficiency.  When  the  time  for  his  depart- 
ure came,  Mtesa  heard  it  with  dismay,  and  asked  :  '  What  is  the  use, 
then,  of  your  coming  to  Uganda  to  disturb  our  minds,  if,  as  soon  as 
we  are  convinced  that  what  you  have  said  has  right  and  reason  in  it, 
you  go  away  before  we  are  fully  instructed? ' 

Stanley  answered  that  every  man  has  his  own  business  and  call- 
ing, that  his  business  was  that  of  a  pioneer  and  not  of  a  religious 
teacher,  but  if  the  king  wanted  real  instructors,  he  would  write  to 
England  and  ask  for  them.  The  king  said,  '  Then  write,  Stamlee ' 
(the  native  pronunciation  of  the  name),  '  and  say  to  the  white  people 
that  I  am  like  a  child  sitting  in  darkness,  and  cannot  see  until  I  am 
taught  the  right  way.'  Thereupon  followed  the  appeal  to  England, 
the  prompt  response,  the  planting  of  the  mission,  and  the  heroic 
story  of  the  Uganda  church  triumphing  over  persecution  and  martyr- 
dom. When  Stanley  wrote  the  story  for  the  '  Cornhill  Magazine,' 
January,  1901,  the  Uganda  people  had  built  for  themselves  three 
hundred  and  seventy-two  churches,  with  nearly  100,000  communi- 
cants, who  were  not  fair-weather  Christians.  A  week  or  two  after 
Stanley's  death,  the  great  cathedral  of  Uganda  was  solemnly  con- 
secrated, and  opened  for  service. 


406  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

Among  these  people  whom  Stanley  visited,  while  taking  Emin's 
refugees  to  safety  in  1889,  was  the  illustrious  missionary  A.  M. 
Mackay,  who  had  previously  written,  'For  a  time  the  old  gods 
of  the  land  had  to  give  way  to  the  creed  of  Arabia,  as  the  king  saw 
something  in  that  more  likely  to  add  prestige  to  his  court  than  the 
charm-filled  horns  of  the  magic  men,  and  frantic  dance  of  the  fore- 
tellers of  fortune.  Then  came  Stanley.  Let  his  enemies  scoff  as  they 
will,  it  is  a  fact  indisputable  that  with  his  visit  there  commenced  the 
dawn  of  a  new  era  in  the  annals  of  the  court  of  Uganda.  The  people 
themselves  date  from  Stanley's  day  the  commencement  of  leniency 
and  law,  in  place  of  the  previous  reign  of  bloodshed  and  terror. 
"Since  Stanley  came,"  they  say,  "  the  king  no  more  slaughters  in- 
nocent people  as  he  did  before;  he  no  more  disowns  and  disinherits 
in  a  moment  an  old  and  powerful  chief,  and  sets  up  a  puppet  of  his 
own,  who  was  before  only  a  slave."  Compared  with  the  former  daily 
changes  and  cruelties,  as  the  natives  describe  them,  one  cannot  but 
feel  thankful  to  God  for  the  mighty  change.' 

After  the  visit,  Mackay  writes:  — 

4 1  must  say  that  I  much  enjoyed  Mr.  Stanley's  company  during 
the  short  stay  here.  He  is  a  man  of  an  iron  will  and  sound  judgement; 
and,  besides,  is  most  patient  with  the  natives.  He  never  allows  any 
one  of  his  followers  to  oppress,  or  even  insult,  a  native.  If  he  has 
had  occasionally  to  use  force  in  order  to  effect  a  passage,  I  am  cer- 
tain that  he  only  resorted  to  arms  when  all  other  means  failed.' 

Stanley  recognised  and  appreciated  in  Mackay  a  spirit  akin  to 
Livingstone.    He  judged  that  he  had  dangerously  overtaxed  his 
strength,  and  urged  him  to  go  away  with  him  and  secure  a  rest. 
But  Mackay  would  not  leave  his  post,  and  within  half  a  year  he 
succumbed  to  disease.1 

Did  space  permit,  a  chapter  might  well  be  given  to  Stanley's 
labours  for  African  civilisation  by  means  of  addresses  to  the  Eng- 
lish people,  and  his  efforts,  by  lectures  and  personal  interviews,  to 
move  the  Government  and  the  community  to  meet  the  successive 
calls  for  action.  Had  England  responded  to  his  appeal  to  take  over  the 
Congo  region,  the  leadership,  which  was  left  to  the  Belgian  sovereign, 
would  have  devolved  on  the  British  nation,  and  history  would  have 
had  a  different  course. 

After  the  founding  of  the  Congo  Free  State,  Stanley  went  over  the 
length  and  breadth  of  England  to  address  meetings,  urging  the 
English  people  to  build  the  Congo  Railway.  But  again  the  deaf  ear 
was  turned  to  him.  Now,  the  wealth  to  shareholders  in  that  railway 
is  prodigious.  He  also  did  his  utmost  to  spur  and  persuade  a  laggard 
and  indifferent  Government  to  plant  and  foster  English  civilisa- 
tion^ East  Africa.  He  wanted  not  mere  political  control,  but  the 
efficient  repression  of  the  slave-trade,  the  advancement  of  mate- 
rial improvements,  and  especially  the  construction  of  railways  to 

1  In  Darkest  Africa,  Stanley  notes  that  'Mr.  Mackay,  the  best  missionary  since 
Livingstone,  died  about  the  beginning  of  February,  1890.' 


's 


wa 


WORK   IN   REVIEW  407 

destroy  the  isolation  which  was  ruinous  to  the  interior.  One  lecture, 
entitled  'Uganda;  a  plea  against  its  Evacuation,'  is  a  masterpiece 
of  large-minded  wisdom,  and  true  statesmanship.  He  spoke  repeat- 
edly before  Anti-slavery  Societies  on  the  practical  means  of  attain- 
ing the  great  end.  His  influence  with  King  Leopold  was  always 
used  to  hasten  and  complete  the  extirpation  of  the  Arab  slave-trade. 
From  that  curse  Equatorial  Africa  was  freed,  and  in  its  deliverance 
Stanley  was  the  leader. 

Stanley  constantly  urged  the  vital  importance  of  thoroughly 
training  Medical  Officers  and  Medical  Missionaries  in  the  know- 
ledge of  Tropical  diseases,  and  the  necessity  of  the  proper  medical 
equipment  of  expeditions  and  stations,  and  the  considerate  medical 
treatment  of  natives,  as  well  as  white  men,  for  economic  reasons, 
as  well  as  on  humanitarian  grounds. 

From  his  own  terrible  experiences  Stanley  realised  to  the  full  the 
barrier  which  Malaria  and  other  dread  Tropical  diseases  imposed 
against  the  progress  of  civilisation  and  commercial  enterprise  in 
Africa ;  and  he  followed  with  keen  interest  and  hopefulness  the  dis- 
coveries of  Sir  Patrick  Manson,  and  Major  Ross,  proving  the  mos- 
quito to  be  the  host  and  carrier  of  the  malarial  parasite,  and  also 
the  successful  devices  of  these  scientists  for  checking  and  reducing 
the  death-toll  from  this  scourge. 

He  particularly  applauded  the  great,  far-seeing,  Colonial  Sec- 
retary, Joseph  Chamberlain,  for  his  practical  measures,  by  which  he 
had  done  more  than  any  other  Statesman  to  render  the  Tropical 
regions  of  the  Empire  habitable  and  healthy. 

Stanley's  last  public  appearance  was  at  a  dinner  to  Dr.  Andrew 
Balfour,  on  his  appointment  as  Director  of  the  Wellcome  Tropical 
Research  Laboratories,  Gordon  Memorial  College,  Khartoum,  and, 
in  the  course  of  a  very  moving  speech  on  the  development  of  Africa 
since  his  first  expedition,  Stanley  said  that,  at  one  time,  he  thought 
the  Equatorial  regions  possible  for  the  habitation  of  natives  only, 
except  in  limited  highlands;  but  now,  thanks  to  the  work  of  the 
London  and  Liverpool  Schools  of  Tropical  Medicine,  and  these  Re- 
search Laboratories  in  the  heart  of  Africa,  the  deadly  plagues  that 
harassed  mankind  were  being  conquered,  and  the  whole  of  that  Dark 
Continent  might  yet  become  a  white  man's  land. 

One  other  trait  of  his  African  work  may  be  mentioned.  In  a 
pecuniary  sense,  it  was  absolutely  disinterested.  He  would  never 
take  the  slightest  personal  advantage  of  the  commercial  opportuni- 
ties incident  to  the  opening  of  the  new  countries,  on  the  Congo,  or 
in  Uganda.  I  desire  to  emphasise  the  fact  that  such  property  as  he  had 
came  almost  entirely  from  his  books  and  his  lectures.  He  gave  his 
assistance  to  the  establishment  of  the  British  East  African  Company 
because  he  believed  in  its  influence  for  good,  but  he  declined  any 
pecuniary  interest. 

When  the  Congo  Railway  stock  was  paying  very  high  dividends, 
he  was  asked  why  he  did  not  take  some  of  it,  and  he  answered  that 


408  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

'he  would  not  have  even  the  appearance  of  personal  profit  out 
of  Africa.'  When  princes  and  potentates  made  advantageous  offers 
to  him,  they  were  quietly  put  aside.  Once  an  English  magnate  in 
Africa,  who  had  aggrandised  England  and  enriched  himself,  asked 
playfully, '  Why  don't  you  take  some  of  the  "corner  lots  "  in  Africa? ' 
Stanley  put  the  question  by,  and  afterwards  said :  '  That  way  may 
be  very  well  for  him,  but,  for  myself,  I  prefer  my  way.' 

When  the  retention  of  Uganda  was  under  discussion,  Lord  Salis- 
bury said  publicly:  'It  is  natural  that  Mr.  Stanley  should  favour 
the  retention,  for  we  all  know  that  he  has  interests  in  Africa.' 
Stanley  took  the  earliest  occasion  to  say  publicly;  'It  is  true,  but 
not  in  the  sordid  sense  in  which  the  imputation  has  been  made; 
my  whole  interest  there  is  for  Africa  herself,  and  for  humanity.' 


CHAPTER   XIX 
EUROPE  AGAIN 

THERE  was  a  charm  attached  to  the  Great  Forest  that 
was  only  revealed  to  me  after  it  had  dropped  beyond 
the  horizon.  I  had  found  that  a  certain  amount  of 
determination  was  necessary  to  enter  it. 

The  longer  I  hesitated,  the  blacker  grew  its  towering  walls, 
and  its  aspect  more  sinister.  My  imagination  began  to  eat 
into  my  will  and  consume  my  resolution.  But  when  all  the 
virtue  in  me  rose  in  hot  indignation  against  such  pusillanimity, 
I  left  the  pleasant  day,  and  we  entered  as  into  a  tomb,  I  found 
it  difficult  to  accustom  myself  to  its  gloom  and  its  pallid  soli- 
tude. I  could  find  no  comfort  for  the  inner  man,  or  solace  for 
the  spirit.  It  became  impressed  on  me  that  it  was  wholly  unfit 
for  gregarious  man,  who  loves  to  see  something  that  apper- 
tains to  humanity  in  his  surroundings.  A  man  can  look  into 
the  face  of  the  Sun  and  call  him  Father,  the  Moon  can  be 
compared  to  a  mistress,  the  Stars  to  souls  of  the  dear  departed, 
and  the  Sky  to  our  Heavenly  Home ;  but  when  man  is  sunk  in 
the  depths  of  a  cold  tomb,  how  can  he  sing,  or  feel  glad? 

After  I  had  got  well  out  of  it,  however,  and  had  been  warmed 
through  and  through  by  the  glowing  sun,  and  was  near  being 
roasted  by  it,  so  that  the  skyey  dome  reminded  me  of  a  burn- 
ing hot  oven,  and  the  more  robustious  savages  of  the  open 
country  pestered  us  with  their  darts,  and  hemmed  us  round 
about,  day  and  night,  then  it  dawned  upon  my  mind  that,  in 
my  haste,  I  had  been  too  severe  in  my  condemnation  of  the 
Forest.  I  began  to  regret  its  cool  shade,  its  abundant  streams, 
its  solitude,  and  the  large  acquaintance  I  made  with  our  own 
ever-friendly  selves,  with  whom  there  was  never  any  quarrel- 
ling, and  not  a  trace  of  insincere  affection. 

I  was  reminded  of  this  very  forcibly  when  I  descended  from 
the  Suez  train,  and  entered  Cairo.  My  pampered  habits  of 
solitary  musing  were  outraged,  my  dreaming  temper  was 
shocked,  my  air-castles  were  ruthlessly  demolished,  and  my 


4io  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

illusions  were  rudely  dispelled.  The  fashionables  of  Cairo,  in 
staring  at  me  every  time  I  came  out  to  take  the  air,  made  me 
uncommonly  shy ;  they  made  me  feel  as  if  something  was  radi- 
cally wrong  about  me,  and  I  was  too  disconcerted  to  pair  with 
any  of  them,  all  at  once.  They  had  been  sunning  without  in- 
terruption in  the  full  blaze  of  social  life,  and  I  was  too  fresh 
from  my  three  years'  meditations  in  the  wilds. 

If  any  of  the  hundreds  I  met  chanced  to  think  kindly  of  me 
at  this  period,  it  was  certainly  not  because  of  any  merit  of  my 
own,  but  because  of  their  innate  benevolence  and  ample  con- 
siderateness.  I  am  inclined  to  think,  however,  that  I  made 
more  enemies  than  friends,  for  it  could  scarcely  be  otherwise 
with  an  irreflective  world.  To  have  escaped  their  censure,  I 
ought  to  have  worn  a  parchment  band  on  my  forehead,  bear- 
ing the  inscription:  'Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  have  been  in 
Darkest  Africa  for  three  continuous  years,  living  among  sav- 
ages, and  I  fear  something  of  their  spirit  clings  to  me ;  so  I 
pray  you  have  mercy.' 

Indeed,  no  African  traveller  ought  to  be  judged  during  the 
first  year  of  his  return.  He  is  too  full  of  his  own  reflections ;  he 
is  too  utterly  natural ;  he  must  speak  the  truth,  if  he  dies  for 
it;  his  opinions  are  too  much  his  own.  Then,  again,  his  vitals 
are  wholly  disorganised.  He  may  appear  plump  enough,  but 
the  plumpness  is  simply  the  effect  of  unhealthy  digestion ;  his 
stomach,  after  three  years'  famishing,  is  contracted,  and  the 
successive  feasts  to  which  he  is  invited  speedily  become  his 
bane.  His  nerves  are  not  uniformly  strung,  and  his  mind  harks 
back  to  the  strange  scenes  he  has  just  left,  and  cannot  be  on 
the  instant  focussed  upon  that  which  interests  Society.  To 
expect  such  a  man  to  act  like  the  unconscious  man  of  the 
world,  is  as  foolish  as  to  expect  a  fashionable  Londoner  to  win 
the  confidence  of  naked  Africans.  We  must  give  both  time  to 
recover  themselves,  or  we  shall  be  unjust. 

To  avoid  the  lounging  critics  that  sat  in  judgement  upon 
me  at  Shepheard's  Hotel,  I  sought  a  retired  spot,  the  Villa 
Victoria,  surrounded  by  a  garden,  where,  being  out  of  sight,  I 
might  be  out  of  mind.  There  was  also  an  infectious  sickness 
prevailing  that  season  in  London,  and  my  friends  thought  it 
better  that  I  should  wait  warmer  weather.  I  reached  Cairo  in 
the  middle  of  January,  1890,  and,  until  the  beginning  of  Feb- 


EUROPE  AGAIN  411 

ruary,  I  toyed  with  my  pen.  I  could  not,  immediately,  dash 
off  two  consecutive  sentences  that  were  readable.  A  thousand 
scenes  floated  promiscuously  through  my  head,  but,  when 
one  came  to  my  pen-point,  it  was  a  farrago  of  nonsense,  in- 
coherent, yet  confusedly  intense.  Then  the  slightest  message 
from  the  outside  world  led  me  astray,  like  a  rambling  butter- 
fly. What  to  say  first,  and  how  to  say  it,  was  as  disturbing 
as  a  pathless  forest  would  be  to  a  man  who  had  never  stirred 
from  Whitechapel.  My  thoughts  massed  themselves  into  a 
huge  organ  like  that  at  the  Crystal  Palace,  from  which  a 
master-hand  could  evoke  Handel's  'Messiah,'  or  Wagner's 
'  Walkure,'  but  which  to  me  would  only  give  deep  discords. 

The  days  went  by,  and  I  feared  I  should  have  to  relegate 
my  book  to  the  uncertain  future.  At  last  I  started  on  the 
'Forest'  chapter,  the  writing  of  which  relieved  me  of  the 
acuter  feeling.  Then  I  began  the  '  March  from  Yambuya' ; 
and,  presently,  I  warmed  to  the  work,  flung  off  page  after 
page,  and  never  halted  until  I  had  reached  '  The  Albert.'  The 
stronger  emotions  being  thus  relieved,  I  essayed  the  beginning, 
and  found  by  the  after-reading  that  I  was  not  over-fantastic, 
and  had  got  into  the  swing  of  narrative.  I  continued  writing 
from  ten  to  fifty  pages  of  manuscript  during  a  day,  from  six 
in  the  morning  until  midnight;  and,  having  re-written  the 
former  chapters  with  more  method,  was  able  on  the  eighty- 
fifth  day  to  write  'Finis'  to  the  record  of  the  journey. 

I  think  the  title  of  it  was  a  happy  one  —  '  In  Darkest 
Africa,  or  the  Quest,  Rescue,  and  Return  of  Emin  Pasha.'  It 
was  the  choice  out  of  more  than  fifty  taking  titles  on  the  same 
subject,  but  none  of  them  was  so  aptly  descriptive  of  the 
theme.  Since  then,  some  dozen  or  so  book-titles  have  been 
founded  on  it,  such  as  'Darkest  England,'  'Darkest  London,' 
'Darkest  New  York,'  'Darkest  Russia,'  etc.,  etc.  It  was  the 
custom  for  Germans,  Anglo-Germans,  Philo-Germans,  etc., 
etc.,  for  some  three  or  four  years  later,  to  print  the  word 
'Rescue'  with  quotation  marks,  which  signified,  of  course, 
1  so-called' ;  but  if  the  word  is  not  absolutely  truthful,  I  know 
not  what  is  true. 

Emin  was  rescued  from  being  either  sold  to  the  Mahdists, 
or  killed  by  Fadle  Mullah,  or  perishing  through  some  stupid 
act  of  his  own  ;  and,  so  long  as  he  was  in  the  British  camp,  he 


4i2  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

was  safe.  The  very  day  he  was  kissed  by  his  countrymen, 
he  was  doomed  to  fall,  and  he  nearly  cracked  his  poor  head. 
When  they  placed  power  in  his  hands,  they  sent  him  to  his 
death. 

Though  not  secure  from  interruptions  at  the  Villa  Victoria, 
I  could,  at  least,  make  my  selection  of  the  visitors  who  called. 
Might  I  have  been  as  safe  from  the  telegraph  and  mails,  I 
should  have  been  fairly  comfortable ;  but  my  telegrams  were 
numerous,  and  letters  arrived  sometimes  by  the  hundred.  The 
mere  reading  of  the  correspondence  entailed  avast  loss  of  time, 
the  replies  to  them  still  more,  and  occupied  the  best  efforts  of 
three  persons.  What  with  a  tedious  sitting  for  my  portrait, 
visits,  interviews,  dining-out,  telegraphic  and  postal  corre- 
spondence, calls  of  friends,  instructions  to  the  artist  for  the 
book,  and  revisions  of  my  MS.,  it  appears  to  me  wonderful 
that  I  was  able  to  endure  the  strain  of  writing  half  a  million  of 
words,  and  all  else ;  but,  thank  Goodness !  by  the  middle  of 
April,  the  book  was  out  of  my  hands,  and  I  was  alive  and  free. 

From  Cairo,  I  proceeded  to  Cannes,  to  consult  with  Sir 
William  Mackinnon  about  East  Africa,  and  explain  about 
German  aggressiveness  in  that  region.  Thence  I  moved  to 
Paris ;  and,  not  many  days  later,  I  was  in  Brussels,  where  I 
was  received  with  a  tremendous  demonstration  of  military 
and  civilian  honours.  All  the  way  to  the  royal  palace,  where 
I  was  to  be  lodged,  the  streets  were  lined  with  troops,  and 
behind  these  was  the  populace  shouting  their  'vivas ! '  It  ap- 
peared to  me  that  a  great  change  had  come  over  Belgian  pub- 
lic opinion  about  the  value  of  the  Congo.  Before  I  departed 
for  Africa,  the  Belgian  journals  were  not  in  favour  of  Africa. 
But  now,  all  was  changed,  and  the  King  was  recognised  as 
'the  great  benefactor  of  the  nation.'  While  I  was  the  guest  of 
His  Majesty,  state,  municipal,  and  geographical  receptions  fol- 
lowed fast  upon  one  another;  and  at  each  of  the  assemblages 
I  was  impressed  with  the  enthusiasm  of  the  nation  for  the 
grand  African  domain  secured  to  it  by  the  munificence  of  their 
royal  statesman  and  sovereign.  Besides  gold  and  silver  medals 
from  Brussels  and  Antwerp,  the  King  graciously  conferred  on 
me  the  Grand  Cross  of  the  Order  of  Leopold,  and  the  Grand 
Cross  of  the  Congo. 

Every  morning,  however,  between  10.30  and  12,  the  King 


EUROPE  AGAIN  413 

led  me  into  his  private  room,  to  discuss  questions  of  absorbing 
interest  to  both  of  us.  Since  1878,  I  had  repeatedly  endeav- 
oured to  impress  on  His  Majesty  the  necessity  of  the  rail- 
way, for  the  connection  of  the  Lower  with  the  Upper  Congo, 
without  which  it  was  impossible  to  hope  that  the  splendid 
sacrifices  he  proposed  to  make,  or  had  made,  would  ever  bear 
fruit.  In  1885-86,  I  had  been  one  of  the  principal  agents  in 
the  promotion  of  an  English  Company  for  the  construction 
of  the  Royal  Congo  Railway;  but  my  efforts  were  in  vain. 
Now,  however,  the  King  expressed  his  assurance  that  the 
time  was  ripe  for  the  Belgian  nation  to  construct  the  line, 
and  he  was  pleased  to  say  that  it  was  my  success  which  had 
produced  this  feeling,  and  that  the  welcome  extended  to 
me  was  a  proof  of  it.  I  would  have  been  better  pleased  if  His 
Majesty  had  expressed  his  determination  to  economise  in 
other  directions,  and  devote  his  energies  to  the  railway. 

The  next  subject  was  the  suppression  of  the  slave-trade  in 
the  Congo.  I  proposed  that  troops  should  be  pushed  up  the 
Congo,  and  that  posts  should  be  established  at  the  mouths  of 
the  Aruwimi  and  Lumami,  and  that  the  garrisons  should  be 
increased  month  by  month,  until  about  two  thousand  troops 
had  been  collected,  when  an  onward  movement  should  be 
made  against  Stanley  Falls,  and  the  Arab  power  be  summarily 
broken. 

As  this  would  be  a  signal  of  resolute  action  against  all  the 
Arabs  above  the  Falls,  about  thirty  steel  boats  should  be  pro- 
vided, to  enable  the  war  to  be  carried  up  the  Lualaba ;  for  there 
would  be  no  peace  for  the  State,  until  every  slaver  in  the  Congo 
State  had  been  extirpated  or  disarmed.  I  explained  the  pro- 
ject in  great  detail,  and  urged  it  vehemently,  as  after  the 
treachery  of  Tippu-Tib  in  the  Forest  region,  it  was  useless 
to  hope  that  any  other  method  would  prevail.  His  Majesty 
promised  cordial  assent  to  the  plan,  and  promised  that  the 
orders  should  be  issued  at  once  for  the  building  of  the  boats. 

The  next  subject  debated  was  the  better  delimitation  of  the 
Congo  State  to  the  east.  I  proposed  that  instead  of  the  vague 
and  uncertain  line  of  East  longitude  30,  the  boundary  between 
British  territory  and  the  Congo  State  should  be  the  centre  of 
the  Albert  Edward  Nyanza  and  the  course  of  the  Semliki 
River,  by  which  the  parting  of  tribes  would  be  avoided.  The 


414  HEXRY   M.  STANLEY 

benefits  to  both  England  and  the  State  would  be  that,  while 
the  whole  of  the  snowy  range  of  Ruwenzori,  intact,  would 
belong  to  England,  the  Congo  State  would  be  extended  to  the 
Albert  Nyanza.  In  size,  the  exchanged  territories  would  be 
about  equal  in  area.  His  Majesty  appeared  pleased  with  the 
idea,  and  expressed  his  willingness  to  negotiate  the  exchange 
of  territories  with  the  East  African  Company. 

The  King  introduced  the  third  subject  himself,  by  express- 
ing his  desire  to  know  what  point  was  tne  best  to  occupy  as  a 
central  post  along  the  Northern  frontier  between  France  and 
the  Congo  State.  I  unhesitatingly  pointed  out  the  confluence 
of  the  Mbornu  with  the  Welle-Mubangi,  but  that  to  supply 
such  a  distant  station  would  require  a  large  number  of  steel 
whale-boats,  such  as  Forrest  &  Son,  of  London,  had  made 
for  me. 

Then  he  wished  to  know  how  the  North-eastern  frontier 
could  be  defended.  I  replied  that  a  clever  officer  would  find  no 
difficulty  in  establishing  himself  within  easy  reach  of  Mak- 
raka,  and  holding  out  inducements  to  the  former  Makraka 
soldiers  of  Emin,  many  of  whom  would  be  glad  of  a  refuge 
against  the  Mahdists.  At  these  private  receptions  His  Majesty 
is  accustomed  to  sit  with  his  back  to  the  window,  on  one  side 
of  a  large  marble-topped  table,  while  his  visitor  sits  on  the 
other  side.  The  table  is  well  furnished  with  writing-paper,  ink, 
pens,  and  pencils.  Three  years  and  a  quarter  had  passed  since 
I  was  in  the  room,  where  I  had  been  fifty  times  before,  prob- 
ably ;  nothing  had  changed  except  ourselves.  The  King's  beau- 
tiful brown  beard  had,  in  the  interval,  become  grey  from  ear 
to  ear ;  while  my  hair,  which  had  been  iron-grey,  was  now  as 
white  as  Snowdon  in  winter. 

I  made  a  smiling  reference  to  the  changes  Time  had  wrought 
in  us  since  we  had  first  met  in  June,  1878,  and  discussed  the 
possibilities  of  introducing  civilisation  on  the  Congo. 

The  King  began  by  saying  that  my  visit  to  Brussels  was 
sure  to  be  followed  by  great  results.  He  was  very  certain  of 
being  able  to  get  the  Congo  Railway  started  now ;  for  the 
Belgian  people  were  thoroughly  roused  up,  and  were  even 
enthusiastic.  He  said  my  letters  from  Africa  and  my  present 
visit  had  caused  this  change.  My  description  of  the  Forest 
had  fired  their  imagination ;  and  the  people  seemed  to  be  about 


EUROPE  AGAIN  415 

as  eager  to  begin  the  railway  as  they  were  previously  back- 
ward, indifferent,  even  hostile.  The  railway  shares  had  been 
nearly  all  taken  up,  etc.,  etc. 

'Now,  Mr.  Stanley,'  said  he,  'you  have  put  me  under  still 
further  obligations,  by  pointing  out  how  slave-raiding  can  be 
stopped ;  you  have  also  suggested  how  we  could  transform 
slave-raiders  into  policemen,  which  is  a  splendid  idea;  and, 
finally,  you  have  indicated  how  we  are  to  protect  our  fron- 
tiers and  make  use  of  Emin's  troops,  as  soldiers  in  the  service 
of  the  State.' 

We  now  discussed  the  value  of  the  country  between  the 
Congo  and  Lake  Albert.  He  listened  to  what  I  said  with  the 
close  attention  of  one  who  was  receiving  an  account  of  a  great 
estate  that  had  just  fallen  to  him,  of  which,  previously,  he  had 
but  a  vague  knowledge. 

I  said  that  from  the  mouth  of  the  Aruwimi  to  within  fifty 
miles  of  Lake  Albert,  the  whole  country,  from  40  S.,  to  about 
30  N.,  was  one  dense  tropical  forest,  and  that  its  area  was 
about  equal  to  France  and  Spain  put  together. 

'  Does  the  Forest  produce  anything  that  is  marketable  in 
Europe?' 

'Well,  Sire,  I  suppose  that  when  elephants  have  been  ex- 
terminated in  all  other  parts  of  Africa,  there  will  still  be  some 
found  in  that  Forest,  so  that  the  State  will  always  be  able  to 
count  upon  some  quantity  of  ivory,  especially  if  the  State  has 
kindly  set  aside  a  reservation  for  them  to  retreat  to,  and  for- 
bidden the  indiscriminate  slaughter  of  these  animals.  Such  a 
reservation  will  also  be  useful  for  the  pigmies  and  other  wild 
creatures  of  the  forest.  But  the  principal  value  of  the  Forest 
consists  in  the  practically  inexhaustible  supply  of  valuable  and 
useful  timber  which  it  will  yield.  You  have  a  great  source  of 
revenue  in  this  immense  store  of  giant  trees,  when  the  Congo 
Railway  enables  timber  merchants  to  build  their  saw-mills  on 
the  banks  of  the  many  tributaries  and  creeks  which  pierce  it. 
The  cotton-wood,  though  comparatively  soft,  will  be  adapted 
for  cargo  barges,  because  it  is  as  unsinkable  as  cork,  and  will 
be  useful  for  transporting  down  the  Congo  the  mahogany, 
teak,  greenheart,  and  the  hard  red  and  yellow  woods. 

4 1  think  the  timber-yards  at  Stanley  Pool  will  be  a  sight  to 
see,  some  few  years  hence.  Then,  for  local  purposes,  the  Forest 


416  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

will  be  valuable  for  furnishing  materials  for  building  all  the 
houses  in  the  Congo  Valley,  and  for  making  wooden  tram-lines 
across  the  portages  of  the  many  rivers.  The  Concessionaires 
will  also  find  the  rubber  produce  of  the  forest  highly  profitable. 
Almost  every  branchy  tree  has  a  rubber  parasite  clinging  to  it ; 
as  we  carved  our  way  through  the  Forest  our  clothes  were 
spoiled  by  the  rain  of  juice  which  fell  on  us.  As  there  are  so 
many  rivers  and  creeks  in  the  Forest,  accessible  by  boats,  and 
as  along  the  Congo  itself,  for  some  hundreds  of  miles,  the 
woods  come  down  and  overhang  the  wTater,  a  well -organised 
company  will  be  able  to  collect  several  tons,  annually,  of  rub- 
ber. When  rubber  is,  even  now,  two  shillings  per  pound,1  you 
can  estimate  what  the  value  of  this  product  alone  will  be, 
when  the  industry  has  been  properly  developed. 

1  With  every  advance  into  the  Forest,  the  gummy  exudations 
will  also  be  no  mean  gain.  Every  land-slip  along  the  rivers 
discloses  a  quantity  of  precious  fossil-gum,  which  floats  down 
the  streams  in  large  cakes.  Experience  will  teach  the  Conces- 
sionaires when  and  how  to  hunt  for  this  valuable  article  of 
commerce.  I  am  inclined  to  think,  in  fact,  that  the  Great  For- 
est will  prove  as  lucrative  to  the  State  as  any  other  section, 
however  fertile  the  soil  and  rich  its  produce. 

1  No  one  can  travel  up  the  Congo  without  being  struck  by  the 
need  of  the  saw -mill,  and  how  numerous  and  urgent  are  the 
uses  of  sawn  timber  for  the  various  stations  which  are  being 
erected  everywhere. 

1  If  you  had  saw-mills  established  now  on  the  Aruwimi, 
they  could  not  produce  planking  fast  enough  to  satisfy  all 
demands,  and  what  a  help  for  the  railway  hard-wood  sleep- 
ers would  be ! ' 

I  was  then  questioned  as  to  the  tribes  of  the  Forest,  and  had 
to  explain  that  as  the  experiences  of  these  unsophisticated 
aborigines  with  strangers  had  been  most  cruel,  it  would  not  do 
to  be  too  sanguine  about  their  ability  to  supply  labour  at  first 
demand.  'But,'  I  said,  'I  came  across  no  tribe,  excepting  the 
pigmies,  which,  after  two  years'  acquaintance  with  the  white 
man,  could  not  be  brought  to  a  right  sense  of  the  value  of  their 
muscle.    If  a  station  were  built  in  any  part  of  the  Forest,  the 

1  The  market-price  of  rubber  is  now  (July,  1909)  quoted  at  four  shillings  and  six- 
pence per  pound.  — D.  S. 


EUROPE  AGAIN  417 

tribe  in  its  neighbourhood  might  be  induced  by  patient  and 
fair  treatment  to  become  serviceable  in  a  short  time ;  but  the 
other  tribes  would  remain  as  aloof  as  ever,  until  they  had  the 
same  opportunities  of  intimately  knowing  the  white  strangers. 
As  the  Forest  is  so  dense,  and  so  many  miles  of  untrodden 
woods  separate  the  tribes,  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  all  the 
people  will  be  tamed  fit  for  employment.  Good  roads  through 
the  Forest,  gentle  treatment  of  the  natives  employed,  and  fair 
wages  to  them,  will  tend  to  hasten  the  white  man's  good  influ- 
ence ;  for  rumour  spreads  rapidly ;  in  a  mysterious  way  good, 
as  well  as  evil,  news  travels ;  and  every  month  will  show  a  per- 
ceptible increase  in  the  numbers  of  those  natives  desirous  of 
associating  themselves  with  the  white  strangers.' 

When  the  King  asked  me  about  the  people  of  the  grass- 
lands near  the  lakes,  he  was  much  interested  at  hearing,  how, 
from  enemies,  formidable  by  their  numbers  and  courage,  they 
had  become  my  allies,  carriers,  servants,  and  most  faithful 
messengers.  His  Majesty  was  much  impressed  by  this,  and  I 
told  him  how  I  had  been  affected  by  their  amiability  and  good 
service ;  to  any  one  listening  to  the  warm  praise  I  gave  the 
Mazamboni  and  Kavallis,  I  might  have  appeared  to  exag- 
gerate their  good  qualities;  but  His  Majesty  is  so  generous- 
minded  that  he  could  appreciate  the  frank  way  in  which  they 
had  confessed  their  error  in  treating  us  as  enemies,  and  the 
ready  way  in  which  they  had  atoned  for  it. 

I  showed  the  King  that  the  grass-lands  were  not  so  distant 
from  the  Congo  as  my  painful  and  long  journey  through  the 
Forest  had  made  them  appear.  '  Without  any  great  cost  it  will 
be  possible  for  the  State  to  send  expeditions  to  Lake  Albert 
from  the  Congo  within  ten  days.  For,  when  saw-mills  have 
been  established  at  Yambuya,  a  wooden  tram-line,  topped  by 
light  steel  bars,  may  be  laid  very  easily  along  the  Aruwimi, 
over  which  a  small  engine,  drawing  five  trucks,  could  travel 
five  miles  an  hour,  or  sixty  miles  a  day.  But  before  this  tram- 
line will  be  possible,  the  railway  to  Stanley  Pool  must  be 
finished,  by  which  the  resources  of  civilisation,  saw-mills,  tools, 
engines,  boats,  provisions,  will  be  brought  thirteen  hundred 
miles  nearer  the  lakes  than  they  are  now.' 

After  this,  we  adjourned  to  lunch,  etc.,  etc. 

A  few  weeks  later,  the  King  came  over  to  London ;  and,  after 


418  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

a  talk  with  Lord  Salisbury  and  the  principal  Directors  of  the 
East  African  Company,  whereby  the  boundaries  between  their 
respective  territories  were  agreed  to  be  the  Albert,  and  Albert 
Edward,  and  the  course  of  the  river  Semliki,  from  the  centre  of 
the  southern  shore  of  the  Albert  Edward  to  the  northern  head 
of  the  Tanganyika  Lake,  a  strip  of  ten  miles  in  width  was  se- 
cured to  Great  Britain  for  free  transit,1  with  all  powers  of  juris- 
diction. Sir  William  Mackinnon  and  myself  were  the  signato- 
ries duly  empowered.2  In  my  opinion,  the  advantages  of  this 
Treaty  were  on  the  side  of  the  British,  as  there  was  now  a  free 
broad  line  of  communications  between  Cape  Town  and  Brit- 
ish Equatoria,  while  my  own  secret  hopes  of  the  future  of  the 
Ruwenzori  range  were  more  likely  to  be  gratified  by  its  acqui- 
sition by  the  English,  because,  once  the  railway  reached  within 
a  reasonable  distance  of  the  Snowy  Mountains,  a  certain  beau- 
tiful plateau  —  commanding  a  view  of  the  snow-peaks,  the  plain 
of  Usongora,  the  Lake  Albert  Edward,  and  the  Semliki  Valley 
—  must  become  the  site  of  the  future  Simla  of  Africa.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  King  was  pleased  with  the  extension  of 
his  territory  to  the  Albert  Nyanza,  though  the  advantages 
are  more  sentimental  than  real.  The  narrow  pasture-land  be- 
tween the  Great  Forest  and  the  lake  may  become  inhabited  by 
whites,  in  which  case  the  ninety-mile  length  of  the  Nyanza 
may  be  utilized  for  steamboat  communication  between  the 
two  ends  of  it. 

As  Monsieur  Vankherchoven,  King  Leopold's  agent,  was  by 
this  time  well  on  his  way  to  the  confluence  of  the  headwaters  of 
the  Welle-Mubangi,  the  conclusion  of  this  Treaty  necessitated 
a  slight  change  in  his  instructions. 

On  arriving  in  England,  April  26,  1890,  I  was  met  by  a 
large  number  of  friends  at  Dover,  who  escorted  me  on  a  special 
train  to  London.  At  Victoria  Station  a  large  crowd  was  assem- 
bled, who  greeted  me  most  warmly.  The  Baroness  Burdett- 
Coutts  and  Mr.  Burdett-Coutts  had  done  me  the  honour  of 
meeting  me  with  their  carriage,  and  in  brief  time  I   found 

1  The  Cape-to-Cairo  Route,  on  all-British  territory,  thus  anticipated  by  Stanley, 
and  rendered  feasible  by  this  Treaty,  was  lost  to  England  owing  to  the  weakness  of  the 
Liberal  Government  of  the  day,  who  were  actually  "  bluffed "  into  cancelling  the 
Treaty  by  German  pressure. 

2  See  Iji  Darkest  Africa,  vol.  ii. 


EUROPE  AGAIN  419 

myself  in  comfortable  rooms  at  De  Vere  Gardens,  which  had 
been  engaged  and  prepared  for  me  by  Sir  Francis  and  Lady 
De  Win  ton. 

For  the  next  three  or  four  weeks,  proof-reading  and  revis- 
ing, banquets,  preparing  lectures,  etc.,  absorbed  far  more  time 
than  was  good  for  my  health.  Two  of  the  most  notable  Recep- 
tions were  by  the  Royal  Geographical  Society  and  the  Emin 
Relief  Committee;  the  first,  at  the  Albert  Hall,  was  by  far  the 
grandest  Assembly  I  ever  saw.  About  ten  thousand  people 
were  present ;  Royalty,  the  Peerage,  and  all  classes  of  Society 
were  well  represented.  While  Sir  Mountstuart  Grant-Duff, 
the  President,  was  speaking,  my  eyes  lighted  on  many  a 
noble  senator,  chief  of  science,  and  prince  in  literature,  whose 
presence  made  me  realise  the  supreme  honour  accorded 
to  me. 

At  the  house  of  my  dear  wife-to-be,  I  met  the  ex-Premier, 
the  Right  Honourable  Mr.  W.  E.  Gladstone,  who  had  come 
for  a  chat  and  a  cup  of  tea,  and  to  be  instructed  —  as  I  had 
been  duly  warned  —  about  one  or  two  matters  connected 
with  the  slave-trade.  I  had  looked  forward  to  the  meeting 
with  great  interest,  believing  —  deluded  fool  that  I  was !  — 
that  a  great  politician  cares  to  be  instructed  about  anything 
but  the  art  of  catching  votes.  I  had  brought  with  me  the 
latest  political  map  of  East  Africa,  and,  when  the  time  had 
come,  I  spread  it  out  conveniently  on  the  table  before  the 
great  man,  at  whose  speaking  face  I  gazed  with  the  eyes  of  an 
African.  '  Mr.  Gladstone,'  said  I,  intending  to  be  brief  and  to 
the  point,  as  he  was  an  old  man,  'this  is  Mombasa,  the  chief 
port  of  British  East  Africa.  It  is  an  old  city.  It  is  mentioned 
in  the  Lusiads,  and,  no  doubt,  has  been  visited  by  the  Phoeni- 
cians. It  is  most  remarkable  for  its  twin  harbours,  in  which 
the  whole  British  Navy  might  lie  safely,  and  — ' 

'Pardon  me,'  said  Mr.  Gladstone,  'did  you  say  it  was 
a  harbour?' 

'Yes,  sir,'  said  I,  'so  large  that  a  thousand  vessels  could 
be  easily  berthed  in  it.' 

'Oh,  who  made  the  harbour?'  he  asked,  bending  his  im- 
posing glance  at  me. 

'It  is  a  natural  harbour,'  I  answered. 

'You  mean  a  port,  or  roadstead?' 


420  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

'It  is  a  port,  certainly,  but  it  is  also  a  harbour,  that,  by 
straightening  the  bluffs,  you  — ' 

'But  pardon  me,  a  harbour  is  an  artificial  construction/ 

1  Excuse  me,  sir,  a  dock  is  an  artificial  construction,  but  a 
harbour  may  be  both  artificial  and  natural,  and  — ' 

'Well,  I  never  heard  the  word  applied  in  that  sense.'  And 
he  continued,  citing  Malta  and  Alexandria,  and  so  on. 

This  discussion  occupied  so  much  time  that,  fearing  I  should 
lose  my  opportunity  of  speaking  about  the  slave-trade,  I 
seized  the  first  pause,  and  skipping  about  the  region  between 
Mombasa  and  Uganda,  I  landed  him  on  the  shores  of  the 
Nyanza,  and  begged  him  to  look  at  the  spacious  inland  sea, 
surrounded  by  populous  countries,  and  I  traced  the  circling 
lands.  When  I  came  to  Ruwenzori,  his  eye  caught  a  glimpse 
of  two  isolated  peaks. 

'Excuse  me  one  minute,'  said  he;  'what  are  those  two 
mountains  called?' 

'Those,  sir,'  I  answered,  'are  the  Gordon  Bennett  and  the 
Mackinnon  peaks.' 

'Who  called  them  by  those  absurd  names?'  he  asked, 
with  the  corrugation  of  a  frown  on  his  brow. 

'  I  called  them,  sir.' 

'By  what  right?'  he  asked. 

1  By  the  right  of  first  discovery,  and  those  two  gentlemen 
were  the  patrons  of  the  expedition.' 

'How  can  you  say  that,  when  Herodotus  spoke  of  them 
twenty-six  hundred  years  ago,  and  called  them  Crophi  and 
Mophi?  It  is  intolerable  that  classic  names  like  those  should 
be  displaced  by  modern  names,  and  —  ' 

'  I  humbly  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Gladstone,  but  Crophi 
and  Mophi,  if  they  ever  existed  at  all,  were  situated  over  a 
thousand  miles  to  the  northward.  Herodotus  simply  wrote 
from  hearsay,  and  —  ' 

'Oh,  I  can't  stand  that.' 

'Well,  Mr.  Gladstone,'  said  I,  'will  you  assist  me  in  this 
project  of  a  railway  to  Uganda,  for  the  suppression  of  the 
slave-trade,  if  I  can  arrange  that  Crophi  and  Mophi  shall 
be  substituted  in  place  of  Gordon  Bennett  and  Mackin- 
non?' 

'Oh,  that  will  not  do;  that  is  flat  bribery  and  corruption' ; 


EUROPE  AGAIN  421 

and,  smiling,  he  rose  to  his  feet,  buttoning  his  coat  lest  his 
virtue  might  yield  to  the  temptation. 

'Alas !'  said  I  to  myself,  'when  England  is  ruled  by  old  men 
and  children !  My  slave-trade  discourse  must  be  deferred,  I 
see.' 

Turning  now  to  the  extraordinary  charges  made  against  me, 
on  my  return  to  Europe,  that  I  deliberately  employed  slaves 
on  my  expedition,  I  would  point  out  that  every  traveller, 
before  setting  out  on  his  journey,  took  all  precautions  to 
avoid  doing  this.  Each  of  my  followers  was  obliged  to  prove 
that  he  was  free  —  by  personal  declaration  and  two  witnesses 
—  before  he  could  be  enrolled.  Four  months'  advance  wages 
were  paid  to  the  men  before  they  left  Zanzibar,  and,  on  their 
return,  their  full  wages  were  delivered  into  their  own  hands. 
No  doubt  many  who  had  been  slaves  had  managed  to  get  into 
the  expedition,  as  I  found  to  my  cost,  when  well  away  in  the 
interior ;  but,  since  they  had  been  able  to  earn  their  own  living, 
their  slavery  had  been  merely  nominal,  and  all  their  earnings 
were  their  own  to  do  what  they  liked  with,  and  their  owners 
never  saw  them  except  when,  at  the  end  of  Ramadan,  they 
called  to  pay  their  respects.  To  all  intents  and  purposes,  they 
were  as  much  freemen  as  the  free-born,  inasmuch  as  they  were 
relieved  from  all  obligation  to  their  masters. 

To  proceed  on  the  lines  that,  because  they  were  not  free- 
born  they  must  be  slaves,  one  would  have  to  clear  out  the 
Seedy-boy  stokers  from  the  British  fleet  in  the  Indian  Ocean, 
and  all  the  mail,  passenger,  and  freight  steamers  which  ship 
them  at  Aden  and  Bombay,  Calcutta,  Singapore,  and  Yoko- 
hama. All  the  British  consulates  on  the  East  Coast  —  Zan- 
zibar, Madagascar,  etc. — would  have  to  be  charged  with  con- 
niving at  the  slave-trade,  as  also  all  the  British  merchants  in 
those  placeo,  because  they  employed  house-servants,  door  and 
horse-boys,  who  were  nominally  slaves. 

White  men  are  not  in  the  habit  of  proceeding  to  an  Arab 
slave-owner,  and  agreeing  with  him  as  to  the  employment 
of  his  slaves.  I  employed  English  agents  at  Zanzibar  to 
engage  my  people,  and  every  precaution  was  taken  that  no 
one  was  enlisted  who  could  not  swear  he  was  an  Ingwaria,  or 
freeman.   I  was  only  four  days  in  Zanzibar,  but,  before  these 


422  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

men  were  accepted,  they  had  to  re-swear  their  declarations 
before  the  British  Consul-general  that  they  were  free. 

The  accusations  made  against  me  that  I  employed  slaves 
were,  therefore,  most  disgraceful.  History  will  be  compelled 
to  acknowledge  that  I  have  some  right  to  claim  credit  in  the 
acts  which  have  followed,  one  upon  another,  so  rapidly  of  late, 
and  which  have  tended  to  make  slave-raiding  impossible,  and 
to  reduce  slave-trading  to  sly  and  secret  exchanges  of  human 
chattels  in  isolated  districts  in  the  interior. 

The  book  'In  Darkest  Africa'  was  published  in  June  by 
my  usual  publishers,  Messrs.  Sampson,  Son  &  Co.,  and  the 
Messrs.  Scribners  of  New  York  brought  it  out  in  America. 
It  was  translated  into  French,  German,  Italian,  Spanish,  and 
Dutch,  and  in  English  it  has  had  a  sale  of  about  one  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand. 

The  month  of  May  was  mainly  passed  by  me  in  stirring  up 
the  Chambers  of  Commerce  and  the  Geographical  Societies  to 
unite  in  pressing  upon  the  British  Government  the  necessity 
of  more  vigorous  action  to  prevent  East  Africa  being  wholly 
absorbed  by  Germany ;  and,  on  coming  southward  from  Scot- 
land, where  I  had  been  speaking,  the  news  reached  me  that 
Lord  Salisbury  had  secured  for  Great  Britain,  Zanzibar  and 
the  northern  half  of  East  Africa,  but  singularly  curtailed  of 
the  extensive  piece  of  pasture-land  west  of  Kilimanjaro.  This 
odd  cutting  off  is  due  to  a  Permanent  Official  in  the  Foreign 
Office,  whose  hand  can  be  traced  in  that  oblique  line  running 
from  the  northern  base  of  the  Devil's  Mountain  to  S.  Lat.  10, 
on  Lake  Victoria.  Had  that  gentleman  been  a  member  of  an 
African  expedition,  he  would  never  have  had  recourse  to  an 
oblique  line  when  a  straight  line  would  have  done  better. 
However,  while  it  remains  a  signal  instance  of  his  weakness,  it 
is  no  less  a  remarkable  proof  of  German  magnanimity !  For, 
though  the  Germans  were  fully  aware  that  the  official  was  one 
of  the  most  squeezable  creatures  in  office,  they  declined  to 
extend  the  line  to  the  Equator!  Kilimanjaro,  therefore,  was 
handed  over  to  Germany,  'because  the  German  Emperor  was 
so  interested  in  the  flora  and  fauna  of  that  district!'  That,  at 
any  rate,  was  the  reason  given  for  the  request ! 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  HAPPY  HAVEN 

ON    Saturday,  July  12,  1890,  I  was   married   to  Stanley,  at 
Westminster  Abbey.     He  was  very  ill  at  the  time,  with 
gastritis  and  malaria,  but  his  powerful  will  enabled  him  to 
go  through  with  the  ceremony. 

We  went  straight  to  Melchet  Court,  lent  to  us  for  our  honeymoon 
by  Louisa,  Lady  Ashburton.    Stanley's  officer,  Surgeon  Parke,  ac- 
companied us,  and  together  we  nursed  Stanley  back  to  health. 
Stanley's  Journal  contains  the  following  passage:  — 

Saturday,  12th  July,  1890. 

Being  very  sick  from  a  severe  attack  of  gastritis,  which 
came  on  last  Thursday  evening,  I  was  too  weak  to  experience 
anything  save  a  calm  delight  at  the  fact  that  I  was  married, 
and  that  now  I  shall  have  a  chance  to  rest.  I  feel  as  unim- 
pressed as  if  I  were  a  child  taking  its  first  view  of  the  world, 
or  as  I  did  when,  half-dead  at  Manyanga  in  1881,  I  thought  I 
had  done  with  the  world ;  it  is  all  so  very  unreal.  During  my 
long  bachelorhood,  I  have  often  wished  that  I  had  but  one 
tiny  child  to  love ;  but  now,  unexpectedly  as  it  seems  to  me, 
I  possess  a  wife ;  my  own  wife,  —  Dorothy  Stanley  now, 
Dorothy  Tennant  this  morning,  —  daughter  of  the  late  Charles 
Tennant  of  Cadoxton  Lodge,  Vale  of  Neath,  Glamorgan,  and 
of  2,  Richmond  Terrace,  Whitehall,  London. 

On  the  8th  August,  after  nearly  a  month  at  Melchet,  we  went  to 
Maloja  in  the  Engadine,  where  we  spent  a  few  quiet,  happy  weeks. 
Sir  Richard  Burton  and  his  wife  were  there.  Stanley  had  last  seen 
him  in  1886. 

Had  a  visit  from  Sir  Richard  F.  Burton,  one  of  the  dis- 
coverers of  Lake  Tanganyika.  He  seems  much  broken  in 
health.  Lady  Burton,  who  copies  Mary,  Queen  of  Scotland, 
in  her  dress,  was  with  him.  In  the  evening,  we  met  again.  I 
proposed  he  should  write  his  reminiscences.  He  said  he  could 
not  do  so,  because  he  should  have  to  write  of  so  many  people. 
1  Be  charitable  to  them,  and  write  only  of  their  best  qualities,' 


424  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

I  said.  — '  I  don't  care  a  fig  for  charity ;  if  I  write  at  all,  I  must 
write  truthfully,  all  I  know,'  he  replied. 

He  is  now  engaged  in  writing  a  book  called  '  Anthropology 
of  Men  and  Women,'  a  title,  he  said,  that  does  not  describe  its 
contents,  but  will  suffice  to  induce  me  to  read  it.  What  a 
grand  man !  One  of  the  real  great  ones  of  England  he  might 
have  been,  if  he  had  not  been  cursed  with  cynicism.  I  have  no 
idea  to  what  his  Anthropology  refers,  but  I  would  lay  great 
odds  that  it  is  only  another  means  of  relieving  himself  of  a 
surcharge  of  spleen  against  the  section  of  humanity  who 
have  excited  his  envy,  dislike,  or  scorn.  If  he  had  a  broad 
mind,  he  would  curb  these  tendencies,  and  thus  allow  men  to 
see  more  clearly  his  grander  qualities. 

From  Maloja,  we  went  to  the  Lake  of  Como,  visited  Milan,  and 
spent  a  night  at  Captain  Camperio's  delightful  house,  '  La  Santa,' 
near  Monza.   Stanley  thus  describes  it :  — 

Camperio  and  Casati,  the  African  travellers,  were  at  the 
station  to  greet  us.  After  twenty  minutes'  drive  from  Monza 
we  reached  Camperio's  place ;  it  was  formerly  a  convent,  and 
has  been  in  possession  of  the  family  two  hundred  years. 
Captain  Camperio  has  been  the  devoted  friend  and  patron 
of  Casati  for  many  years,  and  was  the  cause  of  his  going  to 
Africa.  It  appears  that  Casati,  far  from  being  a  champion  of 
Emin,  is  now  resentful  towards  him,  because  Emin,  as  usual 
with  him,  has  been  neglectful  of  his  friend's  susceptibilities. 
Casati  has  done  very  well  with  his  Book. 

Captain  Camperio  and  his  delightful  family  were  soon  fast 
friends  with  us.  A  few  years  later  he  died,  and  so  La  Santa  became 
only  a  happy  memory.  We  now  turned  homeward,  going  first  to 
Geneva,  then  to  Paris,  and,  finally,  on  the  3rd  October,  1890,  to 
Ostend,  where  we  stayed  at  Hotel  Fontaine,  as  guests  of  the  King. 
We  dined  at  the  Chalet  Royal,  and  the  next  day  Stanley  took  a 
long  walk  with  the  King.  Thus  we  spent  four  days,  Stanley  walking 
daily  with  His  Majesty.  We  dined  every  evening  at  the  Chalet  Royal. 
On  the  8th,  we  left  Ostend.  State-cabins  were  given  to  us,  and  a 
Royal  lunch  served. 

VVe  now  returned  to  London,  and,  on  October  22nd,  Stanley 
received  his  D.  C.  L.,  at  Durham;  on  the  23rd,  we  went  to  Cam- 
bridge, where  he  received  the  LL.  £>.,  from  the  University.  In  June, 
Stanley  had  been  made  D.  C.  L.,  by  Oxford,  and,  soon  after,  LL.  D., 


THE  HAPPY  HAVEN  425 

by  Edinburgh.  The  University  of  Halle  had  bestowed  its  Degree  of 
Doctor  of  Philosophy  in  1879.1 

On  the  29th  October,  we  sailed  for  America.  Stanley  had  under- 
taken a  lecture  tour,  under  the  management  of  Major  Pond.  It  was 
a  tremendous  experience;  the  welcome  we  received  everywhere,  and 
the  kindness  shown  to  us,  were  something  very  wonderful. 

We  remained  over  a  week  in  New  York,  where  Stanley  lectured, 
and  then  we  visited  all  the  great  Eastern  cities. 

Stanley,  in  his  Journal,  writes :  — 

The  untidiness  and  disorder  of  the  streets  of  New  York  strike 
me  as  being  terrible  for  so  rich  a  city,  and  such  an  energetic 
population.  The  streets  are  cut  up  by  rails  in  a  disgraceful 
fashion.  The  noise  of  bells,  and  wheels,  and  horses'  hoofs,  dins 
the  ears.  Telegraph-posts,  with  numberless  wires,  obstruct  the 
view,  and  suggest  tall  wire-fences ;  furlongs  of  posters  meet  the 
eye  everywhere,  and  elevated  railroads  choke  the  view  of  the 
sky.  The  man  who  invented  the  hideous  'Elevated'  deserves 
to  be  expelled  from  civilisation,  and  the  people  who  permitted 
themselves  to  be  thus  tortured  have  certainly  curious  tastes. 
If  they  were  of  my  mind,  they  wrould  pull  these  structures 
down,  and  compel  the  shareholders  to  build  it  in  such  a  man- 
ner that,  while  it  might  be  more  useful  and  safe,  it  would  not 
be  such  an  eyesore,  nor  so  suggestive  of  insolence  and  tyranny 
on  one  side,  and  of  slavish  submission  on  the  people's  side. 

The  view  from  our  hotel-window  shows  me  the  street 
ploughed-up,  square  blocks  of  granite  lying  as  far  as  the  eye 
can  see,  besides  planking,  boarding,  piles  of  earth,  and  stacks 
of  bricks.  I  counted  one  hundred  and  seventy-four  lines  of 
wire  in  the  air,  rows  of  mast-like  telegraph-poles,  untrimmed 
and  unpainted,  in  the  centre  of  the  American  Metropolis! 
What  taste ! 

We  now  travelled  over  the  States  and  Canada,  in  a  special  Pull- 
man-car, which  had  been  named  '  Henry  M.  Stanley.'  It  was 
palatial,  for  we  had  our  own  kitchen  and  cook,  a  dining-car,  which, 
at  night  was  converted  into  a  dormitory,  a  drawing-room  with  piano, 
three  state-bedrooms,  and  a  bath-room. 

After  visiting  all  the  Eastern  cities,  and  Canada,  we  returned 
to  New  York.    On  Sunday,  the  25th  January,  1891,  we  dined  with 

1  The  mere  list  of  Honorary  Memberships  of  Geographical  Societies,  Addresses  of 
Welcome,  at  home  and  abroad,  and  the  Freedoms  of  all  the  leading  cities  in  the  United 
Kingdom,  would  occupy  a  large  volume,  and  therefore  cannot  be  more  than  alluded  to 
here.  —  D.  S. 


426  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

Cyrus  Field  (who  laid  the  first  Atlantic  Cable),  at  123,  Gramercy 
Park,  and  met  General  W.  T.  Sherman,  David  Dudley  Field,  Charles 
A.  Dana,  and  others. 

On  the  31st,  Stanley  went  to  a  Banquet  given  by  the  Press  Club. 
The  following  is  the  entry  in  his  Journal :  — 

Was  dined  by  the  Press  Club.  General  Sherman  was 
present,  with  a  rubicund  complexion,  and  in  an  exceedingly 
amiable  mood.  He  and  I  exchanged  pleasant  compliments  to 
each  other  in  our  after-dinner  speeches. 

On  the  14th  February,  at  Chicago,  Stanley  wrote  in  his  Journal :  — 

The  sad  news  reached  us  to-day  of  the  death  of  General 
W.  T.  Sherman,  the  Leader  of  the  Great  March  through 
Georgia,  and  the  last  of  the  Immortal  Three  —  Grant,  Sheri- 
dan, Sherman.  His  last  public  appearance  was  at  the  Press 
Club  Banquet  to  me  in  New  York.  At  the  time  of  his  death 
he  was  the  most  popular  man  in  New  York,  and  well  deserved 
the  popularity. 

In  his  speech  at  the  Press  Club,  I  recognised  an  oratorical 
power  few  men  not  knowing  him  would  have  suspected.  He 
had  the  bearing  of  one  who  could  impress,  also  those  easy  ges- 
tures which  fix  the  impression,  and  the  pathos  which  charms 
the  ear,  and  affects  the  feelings.  When  we  remember  what  he 
was,  and  that  we  saw  in  him  the  last  of  that  splendid  trio  who, 
by  their  native  worth,  proved  themselves  possessors  of  that 
old  American  patriotism  of  Revolutionary  days,  not  genius, 
but  fine  military  talents,  directed  bymoderatingsingle-minded- 
ness  to  one  common  and  dear  object,  —  when  we  consider  this, 
the  effect  of  General  Sherman's  presence  may  be  better  under- 
stood than  described. 

Los  Angeles,  California,  21st  March.  A  Fresno  news- 
paper, in  commenting  on  my  personal  appearance,  said  that 
I  was  only  five  feet,  three  inches,  and  quoted  Caesar  and 
Napoleon  as  examples  of  what  small  men  are  capable  of.  The 
Los  Angeles  'Herald'  informed  its  readers  this  morning,  that 
I  am  six  feet,  four  inches !  The  truth  is,  I  am  five  feet,  five  and 
a  half  inches  in  my  socks. 

Sunday,  29th  March,  1891.  Reached  New  Orleans  after 
thirty-two  years'  absence.  I  left  it  in  1859,  and  return  to  it  in 
1 89 1.   I  drove  with  D.  to  the  French  Market,  down  Tchapi- 


THE   HAPPY   HAVEN  427 

toulas  St.,  St.  Andrew's  St.,  Annunciation  St.,  Charles 
Avenue,  to  St.  Charles  Hotel.  Took  a  walk  with  D.  to  Tchapi- 
toulas  St.,  then  to  the  Levee;  gazed  across  the  full  view,  and 
pointed  to  'Algiers'  opposite,  where  I  had  often  sported. 

Monday,  30th  March.  Rose  at  six-thirty  and  went  with  D. 
to  French  Market,  to  treat  her  to  what  I  have  often  boasted 
of,  'a  cup  of  the  best  coffee  in  the  world.'  The  recipe  appears 
to  be  two  pounds  of  Java  Coffee  to  one  and  a  half  gallons  of 
water.  Monsieur  L.  Morel  owned  the  coffee-stand.  He  came 
from  France  in  1847.  Very  likely  I  must  have  drunk  coffee, 
many  a  time,  as  a  boy,  at  his  stand ! 

We  walked  home  by  Charles  Street,  well  known  to  me. 
New  Orleans  changes  but  slowly. 

From  Xew  Orleans  we  visited  Chattanooga.  Went  to  the 
top  of  Lookout  Mountain.  People  are  very  kind  and  atten- 
tive to  us  wherever  we  go,  but  I  wish  the  lectures  were  over ; 
I  am  very  weary. 

On  Saturday,  April  4th,  we  visited  Nashville.  Stanley's  entry  is 
simply  '  Dear  old  Nashville ! ' 

This  tour  was  very  exhausting.  The  constant  travelling,  lectur- 
ing, and  social  demands  made  upon  us,  taxed  Stanley's  strength 
severely.  By  nature  shy  and  retiring,  he  shrank  from  ovations,  and 
wished,  above  all  things,  to  pass  unnoticed.  This  letter  written  to 
me  from  our  private  car  when  I  was  in  Colorado,  where  he  joined 
me  a  few  days  later,  will  give  an  idea  of  his  feelings :  — 

I  spend  most  of  my  time  in  my  own  little  cabin,  writing  or 
reading ;  enduring  the  breaks  on  my  privacy  because  they  are 
a  necessity ;  each  time  invoking  more  patience,  and  beseeching 
Time  to  hurry  on  its  lagging  movement  that  I  might  once 
more  taste  of  absolute  freedom.  Meanwhile,  what  pleasure  I 
obtain  is  principally  in  reading,  unless  I  come  to  a  little  town, 
and  can  slip,  unobserved,  out-of-doors  for  a  walk.  I  often 
laugh  at  the  ridiculous  aspect  of  my  feelings,  as  I  am  com- 
pelled to  become  shifty  and  cunning,  to  evade  the  eager  citi- 
zens' advances.  I  feel  like  Cain,  hurrying  away  with  his  uneasy 
conscience  after  despatching  Abel,  or  a  felonious  cashier 
departing  with  his  plunder !  When  I  finally  succeed  in  get- 
ting off  without  attracting  anyone,  you  would  be  amused 
could  you  peep  in  underneath  my  waistcoat  and  observe  the 
sudden  lifting  of  the  feelings,  just  like  the  sudden  lighting  of 


428  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

a  waste  of  angry  sea  by  the  full  sun,  warm,  bland,  and  full 
of  promise.  Then  away  I  go  against  the  keen,  cold  wind,  but 
the  feelings  are  rejoicing,  laughing,  babbling  of  fun  and  enjoy- 
ment ;  and  the  undertone  of  the  great  harmony  is  Freedom ! 
I  am  free !  Block  after  block  is  passed  without  a  glance,  until 
I  get  to  the  quieter  parts,  and  then  I  straighten  out,  take  a 
long  breath,  expressing  by  the  act  the  indescribable  relief  I 
have  of  being  away  from  the  talking  man,  with  his  wayward 
moods,  and  exceeding  sensitiveness. 

I  sometimes  think  with  a  shiver  of  what  I  shall  have  to 
endure  in  London :  just  because  a  person  sends  a  polite  invita- 
tion to  dinner,  or  tea,  or  reception,  one  must  note  it  down  as  a 
binding  engagement  for  that  evening  or  afternoon.  One  must 
not  forget  it ;  one  must  think  of  it,  and  cut  out  that  period  of 
existence  from  his  short  life,  to  eat  and  drink  at  the  express 
hour !  This  is  not  freedom  !  To  be  free  is  to  have  no  cares  at 
all,  no  thought  of  the  next  hour,  or  the  next  day,  or  the  next 
month ;  to  be  as  we  were  at  Melchet,  —  early  breakfast,  walk 
out,  sit  on  chair  or  bench,  walk  in,  or  walk  out,  as  though 
irresponsible  beings.  How  I  did  enjoy  Melchet !  Afterwards 
came  busy,  exacting  life,  preparation  for  lectures,  etc.  All 
Europe  and  America  were  not  so  pleasant  as  lovely,  dreamy 
Melchet. 

There  are  butterflies  and  bees  in  the  world ;  the  butterflies 
like  to  play  amid  the  flowers,  I  am  content  to  belong  to  the 
bee  class.  The  bees  do  not  envy  the  butterflies,  do  not  think 
at  all  about  them,  and  that  is  the  same  with  me.  I  might 
stand  it  for  a  week,  perhaps  a  month ;  but  the  utter  waste  of 
life  would  begin  to  present  itself,  until,  at  last,  my  mind  would 
conceive  an  accusing  phantom,  composed  of  lost  days  and 
weeks,  with  their  hosts  of  lost  opportunities  ever  reproaching 
me  for  my  devotion  to  the  inane  and  profitless.  Ah,  no,  I  must 
be  doing  something;  no  matter  what  it  appears  to  others, 
if  to  me  it  satisfies  the  craving  for  doing  or  learning,  that  is 
enough. 

On  April  15,  1891,  we  sailed  for  Liverpool.  Stanley  ends  the 
Journal  of  our  American  tour  with  the  words :  — 

The  greatest  part  of  America  is  unequalled  for  its  adapta- 
bility for  the  service  of  man,  and  her  people  are  doing  the 


THE  HAPPY  HAVEN  429 

utmost  they  can  to  utilize  its  productiveness.  They  have 
even'  right  to  be  grateful  for  their  land,  and  I  think  they  are 
both  grateful  and  proud  of  it. 

The  American  farmer,  of  whom  but  little  mention  is  made, 
is  one  of  the  finest  natures  in  existence.  Milton's  description 
of  Adam,  'the  great  Sire  of  all,'  a  little  altered,  would  befit  the 
typical  American  farmer.  I  never  see  one  but  I  feel  inclined  to 
say  to  him,  '  Good  and  honest  man,  all  blessings  attend  thee ! ' 
His  life  is  without  reproach,  his  soul  without  fear,  he  has  faith 
in  God,  he  is  affectionate,  serene  in  demeanour ;  there  is  confi- 
dence in  his  gait,  and  he  understands  and  loves  the  kindly 
earth.  The  typical  American  merchant  is  a  sober  and  solid 
man,  shrewd  and  practical,  a  pillar  of  the  Commonwealth,  and 
daringly  enterprising  on  occasion. 

We  now  returned  to  London,  and  from  there  Stanley  went  on  a 
lecturing  tour  over  England  and  Scotland.  I  did  not  accompany 
him  throughout,  but  joined  him  at  different  places,  so  that  I  possess 
some  delightful  letters  written  to  me  when  we  were  apart.  In  one 
he  writes :  — 

Rest!  Ah,  my  dear!  we  both  need  it  —  I  more  than  you. 
Absolute  stillness,  somewhere  in  remote  and  inaccessible 
places,  in  an  island,  or  in  the  air,  only  certain  articles  of  food 
and  comfort  being  indispensable.  Then  let  me  wake  to  strains 
of  music,  and  I  think  I  should  rise  to  life  again !  Until  then, 
existence  is  mere  prolonged  endurance. 

Stanley  all  his  life  had  a  passion  for  reading,  when  he  could  not 
be  '  doing.'  He  delighted  in  reading  Caesar,  Thucydides,  Xenophon, 
Polybius,  and  lighter  books  also  did  not  come  amiss.  From  Chelten- 
ham, he  wrote:  — 

I  have  begun  again  on  Thucydides.  Gladstone's  'Glean- 
ings' are  ended.  They  are  all  good.  Strange !  how  I  detect  the 
church-going,  God-fearing,  conscientious  Christian,  in  almost 
every7  paragraph.  Julian  Corbett's  'Drake'  is  fair;  I  am  glad 
I  read  it,  and  refreshed  myself  with  what  I  knew  before  of  the 
famous  sailor. 

From  the  Bell  Hotel,  Gloucester,  he  wrote,  June  3,  1891 :  — 

I  had  a  long  walk  into  the  country,  which  is  simply  buried 
under  bushy  green  of  grass  and  leaves. 


430  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

I  saw  the  largest  river  in  England  yesterday :  it  appears  to 
be  a  little  wider  than  what  I  could  hop  over  with  a  pole  in 
my  best  days.  It  was  a  dirty,  rusty-coloured  stream,  but  the 
meadows  were  fat.  The  country  seems  to  perspire  under  its 
covering  of  leafy  verdure.  I  always  loved  the  English  country, 
and  my  secret  attachment  for  it  seemed  to  me  well  confirmed 
to-day,  as  I  thrilled  with  admiration  and  affection  for  all  I  saw. 

June  4th.  Took  a  walk  along  the  heights  of  Clifton  !  What 
a  picture  of  the  Severn  Gorge  —  woods,  cliffs,  villas,  good 
roads,  rosy-cheeked  children,  romping  school-boys,  fond 
mamas,  and  a  score  of  other  things  —  one  can  get  from  the 
Suspension  Bridge! 

His  next  letter  was  from  Clifton :  — 

You  press  me  to  accept  the  invitation  to  preside  at  the 
Eisteddfod.  I  feel  that  we,  the  people  of  Wales  generally,  and  I, 
are  not  in  such  close  sympathy  as  to  enable  me  to  say  anything 
sufficiently  pleasing  to  their  ears.  How  could  it  be  otherwise? 
The  Eisteddfod,  as  I  understand  it,  is  for  the  purpose  of  excit- 
ing interest  in  the  Welsh  nationality  and  language.  My 
travels  in  the  various  continents  have  ill-prepared  me  for 
sympathising  with  such  a  cause.  If  I  were  to  speak  truly 
my  mind,  I  should  recommend  Welshmen  to  turn  their  atten- 
tion to  a  closer  study  of  the  English  language,  literature,  and 
characteristics,  for  it  is  only  by  that  training  that  they  can 
hope  to  compete  with  their  English  brothers  for  glory,  honour, 
and  prosperity.  There  is  no  harm  in  understanding  the  Welsh 
language,  but  they  should  be  told  by  sensible  men  that  every 
hour  they  devote  to  it,  occupies  time  that  might  be  better 
employed  in  furthering  their  own  particular  interests.  But 
who  will  dare  tell  men,  so  devoted  to  their  own  people  and 
country  as  the  Welsh,  the  real  truth?  i"  am  not  the  man! 
There  is  no  object  to  be  gained  save  the  good  of  the  W7elsh 
people  themselves,  who,  unfortunately,  fail  to  see  it  in  that 
light,  and  would  accordingly  resent  whatever  was  said  to 
them.  I  am  sp  ignorant  of  the  blessings  attending  these  local 
studies,  that  my  speech  would  be  barren  and  halting.  If  I 
could  only  feel  a  portion  of  what  the  fervid  Welshman  feels, 
I  might  carry  through  the  day  a  bearing  as  though  I  enjoyed 
it  all,  but  I  fear  I  shall  hang  my  head  in  self-abasement. 


THE   HAPPY   HAVEN  431 

Now  if  it  were  a  British  community  that  met  to  celebrate 
British  glories,  what  themes  and  subjects!  But  how  can  I 
shout  for  Cambria  ?  What  is  Cambria,  alone  ?  What  has  she 
done,  what  hope  for  her,  separate  and  distinct  from  her  big 
sister  Britannia,  or  rather  Anglia  ?  United,  they  are  great ;  but 
divided,  neither  is  aught.  Now  do  you  understand  to  what 
a  hard  shift  I  am  put?  I  shall  be  hooted  out  of  the  country, 
because  my  stubborn  tongue  cannot  frame  agreeable  fictions ! 

June  16,  1 89 1,  he  wrote  to  me:  — 

You  ought  to  have  been  with  me  at  Carnarvon,  simply  to  be 
amazed  at  the  excitement  in  North  Wales,  along  the  line,  as 
I  stepped  from  the  train ;  the  people,  hard-featured,  homely 
creatures,  rushed  up,  the  crowd  being  enormous.  Yester- 
day I  had  a  striking  explanation  of  why  and  wherefore  the 
woman  in  the  Scriptures  kissed  the  hem  of  the  Master's  gar- 
ment :  as  I  moved  through  the  crowd,  I  felt  hands  touch  my 
coat,  then,  getting  bolder,  they  rubbed  me  on  the  back,  stroked 
my  hair,  and,  finally,  thumped  me  hard,  until  I  felt  that  the 
honours  were  getting  so  weighty  I  should  die  if  they  continued 
long.  Verily,  there  were  but  few  thumps  between  me  and 
death !  A  flash  of  fierceness  stole  over  me  for  a  second,  and  I 
turned  to  the  crowd ;  but  they  all  smiled  so  broadly  that,  poor, 
dear,  mad  creatures,  I  forgave  them,  or,  at  least,  resolved  to 
submit.  Well!  until  11.45  p-  M-i  from  5  p.  m.,  I  was  either 
talking  at  the  pitch  of  my  voice  to  six  thousand  people,  or 
being  wrung  by  the  hand  by  highly-strung,  excited  people. 
Were  it  not  for  the  prayer,  'God  bless  you,  Stanley!  God 
prosper  your  work,  Stanley !  The  Lord  be  praised  for  you, 
my  man!'  I  could  have  done  anything  but  feel  grateful,  the 
strain  on  my  nerves  was  so  exhausting.  But  I  need  prayers, 
and  their  blessings  were  precious. 

The  streets  were  full ;  eight  excursion  trains  had  brought 
the  country  folk ;  they  blocked  the  way  of  the  carriage,  com- 
ing in,  and  going  out.  Dear  sons  of  toil  and  their  sisters,  the 
grand  stout-hearted  mothers  who  bore  them,  and  the  grey- 
haired  sires !  My  heart  went  out  to  them  ;  for,  underneath  all, 
I  felt  a  considerable  admiration  for  them  —  indeed,  I  always 
had.  I  feel  what  all  this  means,  just  as  I  know  what  is  passing 
in  the  African's  heart,  when  I  suddenly  make  him  rich,  in- 


432  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

stead  of  hurting  him.  There  is  a  look,  as  of  a  lifting-up  of  the 
soul  into  the  eyes,  which  explains  as  fully  as  words. 

June  20th,  1891.  I  have  nine  more  lectures  to  deliver,  and 
then,  God  and  man  willing,  I  shall  cast  me  down  for  rest. 

I  have  just  begun  to  read  Walter  Scott's  'Journal.'  I  like  it 
immensely.  The  Life  of  Houghton  is  dull ;  his  own  letters 
are  the  best  in  it,  but  there  is  no  observation,  or  judgement 
upon  things ;  merely  a  series  of  letters  upon  town-talk ;  what 
he  did,  seldom,  however,  what  he  thought.  Where  you  see  his 
thought,  it  is  worth  reading  twice. 

It  is  a  great  relief  at  last  to  be  able  to  "speak  my  mind,' 
not  to  be  chilled  and  have  to  shrink  back.  Between  mother 
and  child,  you  know  the  confidence  and  trust  that  exist;  I 
never  knew  it;  and  now,  by  extreme  favour  of  Providence, 
the  last  few  years  of  my  life  shall  be  given  to  know  this 
thoroughly.  Towards  you  I  begin  trustfully  to  exhibit  my 
thoughts  and  feelings ;  as  one,  unaccustomed  to  the  security 
of  a  bank,  places  his  hard-earned  money  in  the  care  of  a 
stranger,  professing  belief  in  its  security,  yet  inwardly  doubt- 
ing, so  I  shyly  revealed  this  and  that,  until  now,  when  I  give 
up  all,  undoubting,  perfect  in  confidence. 

June  29th.  To-morrow,  a  lecture  at  Canterbury  will  finish 
my  present  course.  And  then  I  shall  be  at  large  to  look  at 
everything  on  earth  with  different  eyes.  Think  of  the  novel 
liberty  of  lying  in  bed  as  long  as  I  please,  to  take  coffee  in 
bed,  the  morning  cigar  and  bath,  without  an  inward  monitor 
nagging  persistently  and  urging  to  duty !  By  the  way,  apro- 
pos of  that  word,  M.  said  yesterday  she  disliked  the  word 
'duty.'  I  wonder  if  she  has  been  reading  Jeremy  Bentham, 
who  wrote  to  the  same  effect. 

Duty,  though  an  imperious,  is  a  very  necessary  master; 
but  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  pass  a  few  weeks,  at  least,  owing 
no  duty  but  that  which  I  shall  owe  to  your  pleasure  and 
mine. 

Canterbury,  July  1st,  8.30  A.  m.  I  have  risen  thus  early 
to  celebrate  my  emancipation  from  the  thraldcm  imposed 
upon  me  by  lecture  agents  and  my  own  moral  weakness,  to 
write  to  you. 

I  have  seen  the  time  when  I  could  have  written  gloriously 
about  this  singular  old  town ;  I  love  it  no  less  now  than  I  did 


THE   HAPPY   HAVEN  433 

years  ago  when  I  first  saw  it,  but  I  am  much  busier  with 
various  things  now  than  then. 

The  old  Fountain  Hotel  is  a  typical  English  inn.  I  heard  a 
little  bit  of  vocal  music  from  the  Cathedral  choir,  and  very 
much  admired  it.  What  a  fine  old  Cathedral  it  is !  But  oh ! 
how  the  religion  that  built  it  has  faded !  The  worship  of  the 
Almighty  Creator  of  Heaven  and  Earth,  who,  we  were  taught 
in  our  youth,  sat  in  the  Heaven  of  Heavens,  has  been  so 
superseded  by  that  degrading  worship  of  gold  and  Society ! 

Apropos  of  this,  I  picked  up  at  a  book-stall  yesterday  a 
little  brochure  called  '  Caesar's  Column,'  a  tale  of  the  twentieth 
century,  by  Ignatius  Donnelly.  I  read  it  through.  It  pre- 
tends to  be  a  series  of  letters  from  a  man  named  Gabriel, 
a  visitor  to  New  York  from  the  State  of  Uganda,  Central 
Africa.  They  are  directed  to  one  Heinreich,  a  resident  of  the 
village  of  Stanley !  He  describes  the  marvellous  inventions  of 
the  age,  especially  the  air-demons,  which  are  air-warships 
loaded  with  bombs,  charged  with  poisonous  fumes,  which, 
dropped  from  above  in  the  streets,  destroy  a  quarter  of  a 
million  soldiers.  The  armed  force  of  the  State  thus  disposed 
of,  the  canaille  proceed  to  exterminate  the  devotees  of  Society 
and  the  cold,  selfish  civilisation,  or  rather  that  methodical 
system  founded  upon  spoliation  and  oppression  of  the  poor 
which  the  wealthy  have  initiated  by  huge  trusts,  etc.,  wherein 
there  is  no  thought  of  mercy,  justice,  or  sweet  charity. 

The  end  of  all  is  destruction  and  utter  extermination  of  the 
wealthy  classes  over  Europe  and  America,  and  the  quick 
upheaval  of  everything  resembling  Order  and  Law  by  the 
Anarchist  clan,  and  the  two  continents  relapse,  fast  enough, 
into  barbarism,  in  consequence.  It  is  a  powerful  story  — 
impossible,  of  course;  but  some  of  its  readers  will  rise  from 
reading  it,  thoughtful,  and  a  small  seedling  of  good  may,  or 
ought,  to  come  from  it. 

At  last,  Stanley's  holiday  came,  and  we  went  to  Switzerland  at 
the  end  of  July.  The  fine  mountain  air,  the  beauty  of  the  scenery, 
long  walks,  peace  and  quiet,  gave  Stanley  what  he  so  needed  — 
physical  and  mental  rest.  Of  an  evening,  we  read  aloud,  retiring 
very  early,  as  Stanley  had  the  African  habit  of  rising  at  six. 

I  persuaded  Stanley  sometimes  to  play  at  cards,  but  he  never 
much  cared  to  do  so;  he  not  only  thought  cards  a  great  waste  of 
time,  but  he  also  thought  playing   for  money  discreditable;  he 


434  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

wanted  all  the  time  he  could  get  for  reading,  or  planning  something 
he  meant  to  do,  or  write.   He  was,  in  fact,  an  inveterate  worker. 

We  were  returning  to  England  at  the  end  of  August,  when  Stanley, 
in  a  damp  mountain-meadow  at  Miirren,  slipped  and  broke  his  left 
ankle.  He  suffered  a  good  deal,  the  injury  bringing  on  malaria ;  but 
the  bone  united  without  shortening  the  leg,  and,  in  time,  the  lameness 
disappeared.  This  accident  prevented  his  presiding  at  the  Eistedd- 
fod. 

On  the  2nd  October,  Stanley  went  to  Ostend,  by  invitation  of  the 
King  of  the  Belgians.  Mr.  Mounteney  Jephson  accompanied  him. 
Stanley  wrote  to  me :  — 

The  King  does  not  look  greyer  than  I  remember  him  during 
the  last  two  years.  He  tells  me  he  will  be  fifty-seven  next 
April,  and  that  he  feels  the  approach  of  age,  one  sign  of  which 
is  loss  of  memory.  He  cannot  remember  names.  I  told  him 
that  that  fact  did  not  strike  me  as  suggestive  of  age,  since  the 
longer  we  lived  the  more  names  we  had  to  remember,  and 
there  was  a  limit  to  one's  power  of  remembering. 

Stanley  then  wrote  at  length  his  conversation  with  the  King; 
but  I  will  not  give  it  here. 

After  dinner,  we  adjourn  to  the  King's  private  room  to 
smoke.  Baron  Goffinet  takes  charge  of  Jephson,  and  shows 
him  the  Casino.  The  King  tells  me  he  walks  twenty-five 
kilometres  every  day:  his  daily  life  begins  at  5.30  A.  M.,  when 
he  takes  a  cup  of  tea;  he  breakfasts  at  8.30.  All  his  letters 
for  his  Ministers  are  written  by  himself  between  6  A.  if.  and 
breakfast,  and,  at  10  o'clock,  they  are  sent  to  the  Ministers. 
He  says  he  has  been  twenty-six  years  in  active  service. 

After  dinner,  the  King  cautiously  approached  and  sounded 
me  on  the  possibility  of  my  resuming  my  duties  on  the 
Congo. 

I  pointed  to  my  broken  leg,  for  I  am  still  very  lame. 

'  Oh. '  he  said,  '  not  now,  but  when  you  return  from  Australia, 
sound  in  health  and  limb.' 

'We  shall  see,  Your  Majesty,'  I  said. 

'I  have  a  big  task  on  hand  for  you,  when  you  are  ready,' 
were  his  last  words. 

In  October,  1891,  we  left  England  for  a  visit  to  Australia,  New 
Zealand,  and  Tasmania,  travelling  via  Brindisi,  some  twelve  miles 
from  which  our  train  came  into  collision  with  a  goods  train.  Stanley 
thus  describes  the  accident:  — 


THE   HAPPY   HAVEN  435 

At  3.45  P.  M.,  we  were  rattling  along  at  forty  miles  an  hour, 
when  the  train  jostled  dangerously  at  the  northern  end  of  a 
siding.  D.  and  I  cast  enquiring  glances  at  each  other,  but, 
finding  we  were  not  derailed,  resumed  our  composure.  A 
second  later  there  was  an  explosion  like  that  of  a  rocket,  and, 
the  next  second,  there  was  a  jar  and  a  slight  shock.  'Lift  up 
your  feet,'  I  cried  to  D. ;  and,  at  the  words,  my  window  burst 
into  a  shower  of  finely- powdered  glass,  which  fell  over  me,  and 
we  stood  stock-still.  Rising  on  my  crutch,  I  looked  through 
the  broken  window  and  discovered  four  freight  trucks,  crum- 
pled up  into  a  pitiful  wreck,  just  ahead  of  us,  within  about 
fifty  yards  of  a  levelled  wall,  and  I  then  saw  that  our  engine 
and  van  were  lying  on  their  side.  Our  escape  was  a  narrow 
one,  for  our  coupe  compartment  came  next  to  the  van.  For- 
tunately, there  was  no  loss  of  life. 

_  I  regret  that  space  does  not  allow  me  to  quote  Stanley's  descrip- 
tions of  persons  and  places  during  his  half-year  in  Australia.  I  give 
one  or  two  personal  passages  from  his  Journal. 

Auckland,  December  30th.  Sir  George  Grey  called  on  us  in 
the  afternoon,  and  took  us  out  to- show  us  the  Public  Librarv. 
There  we  saw  valuable  old  Missals,  with  wonderful  paintings 
of  scroll-work  and  impossible  leafage.  In  another  room,  he 
showed  us  private  letters  from  Livingstone,  received  by  him 
when  Governor  of  Cape  Colony.  There  were  also  some  from 
Speke. 

Livingstone's  letters  are  marked  'Private.'  He  must  have 
recognised  a  kind  of  cousinship  in  Sir  George,  to  have  deliv- 
ered himself  so  frankly.  He  wrote  strongly  and  earnestly  to 
one  whom  he  rightly  supposed  would  understand  him. 

Sir  George,  a  traveller  himself,  and  likewise  a  strong  man, 
would  appreciate  him.  It  did  me  good  to  see  his  handwriting, 
and  also  to  see  letters  of  Speke. 

I  doubt  whether  Speke  will  ever  be  thoroughly  known  to 
the  world,  though  there  was  much  that  was  great  and  good  in 
him ;  but  Speke,  unfortunately,  could  not  express  himself. 

It  was  a  keen  pleasure  to  read  these  old  letters,  which 
breathed  of  work,  loyalty  of  soul,  human  duties,  imperial 
objects,  and  moral  obligations,  and  then  to  look  up  at  the  face 
of  the  venerable  statesman  to  whom  they  were  addressed,  and 


436  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

trace  the  benevolence,  breadth  of  mind,  and  intelligence  which 
elicited  the  spontaneous,  free  expression  of  their  hopes  from 
these  travellers  and  pioneers.  It  is  so  elevating  to  see  a  man 
who  is  not  tainted  with  meanness  and  pettiness,  with  whom 
one  can  talk  as  to  a  Father-confessor,  without  fear  of  being 
misunderstood,  and  without  risk  of  finding  it  in  the  newspa- 
pers of  the  next  day. 

Sir  George  has  a  grand,  quiet  face,  and  a  pair  of  round  blue 
eyes  beaming  with  kindness,  and  the  light  of  wisdom.  There 
are  others  like  him  in  the  world,  no  doubt,  but  it  is  only  by 
a  rare  chance  we  meet  them.  Should  I  be  asked  what  gave 
me  the  most  pleasure  in  life,  I  would  answer  that  it  was  the 
meeting  with  wise  and  good  elders,  who,  while  retaining  a 
vivid  interest  in  the  affairs  of  life,  could,  from  their  height  of 
knowledge  and  experience,  approve  what  I  had  done,  and  bid 
me  strive  on,  undaunted,  undismayed. 

I  here  give  a  letter  from  Sir  George  Grey,  written  a  month  later : 

Auckland,  29th  Jan.,  1892. 

My  dear  Stanley,  —  This  is  the  52nd  Anniversary  of  New 
Zealand,  a  public  holiday. 

I  am  left  in  perfect  tranquillity,  with  full  time  for  calm  reflection, 
for  all  are  gone  on  some  party  of  pleasure.  I  have  occupied  my 
morning  in  following  your  sufferings  and  trials  as  recorded  in  Parke's 
1  Experiences  in  Equatorial  Africa.'  After  reading,  with  the  greatest 
pleasure,  pages  512,  513,  and  514,  these  have  set  me  reflecting  upon 
what  you  have  done  for  the  Empire  by  your  services,  and  what  has 
been  the  reward  given  publicly  to  you  by  the  authorities  of  that 
Empire  —  well,  neglect! 

I  am  inclined  to  think  it  is  best  that  the  matter  should  stand  thus. 

All  of  danger,  sorrow,  suffering,  trial  of  every  kind  that  man  could 
endure,  you  have  undergone. 

From  all  of  these  you  have  emerged  unshaken,  triumphant,  every 
difficulty  overcome,  reverenced  by  those  who  served  under  you, 
Africa  opened  to  the  world,  the  unknown  made  manifest  to  all.  So 
to  have  suffered,  so  to  have  succeeded,  must  have  done  much  to 
form  a  truly  great  character,  the  remembrance  of  which  will  go 
down  to  posterity. 

Yet  one  thing  was  wanting  to  render  the  great  drama  in  which 
you  have  been  the  great  actor  complete.  Could  the  man  who  had 
done  all  this,  and  supported  such  various  trials,  bear  that  —  perhaps 
hardest  of  all  —  cold  neglect,  and  the  absence  of  national  recog- 
nition and  national  reward  for  what  he  had  accomplished  ?  From  this 
trial,  as  from  all  the  others  you  have  undergone,  you  have  come 


THE   HAPPY   HAVEN  437 

out  a  conqueror — calm,  unmoved,  and  uncomplaining.  Your  own 
character  has  been  improved  by  this  new  trial,  which  will  add  an 
interest  to  your  history  in  future  times;  and  I  sit  here,  not  lamenting 
that  you  move  amongst  your  fellow-men  untitled,  undecorated,  but 
with  a  feeling  that  ail  has  taken  place  for  the  best. 

I  had  wished  to  write  to  you  on  several  points.  I  was  much  struck 
by  a  statement  in  Parke's  journal,  that  at  one  point  it  only  took 
fifteen  minutes  to  walk  from  the  headwaters  of  the  Nile  to  those 
of  the  Congo.1  This  distance  could  hardly  be  shown  upon  a  small 
map,  and  probably  caused  an  error  in  the  old  maps,  or  in  verbal 
descriptions  from  which  the  old  maps  were  made. 

But  I  shall  weary  you  with  this  long  letter.  I  hope  we  shall  meet 
again  before  long,  but  I  fear  some  time  may  elapse  before  I  can  start 
for  England.  I  feel  that  I  owe  duties  to  New  Zealand,  Australia, 
and  the  Cape,  and,  until  I  have  at  least  partially  fulfilled  them,  I 
hesitate  to  indulge  my  longing  once  more  to  revisit  my  early  home, 
and  my  many  relatives. 

Will  you  give  my  regards  to  Mrs.  Stanley,  and  tell  her  that  the  in- 
teresting photograph  of  yourself  which  you  were  good  enough  to 
send  me  has  been  handsomely  framed  and  adorns  the  Public  Library. 

Yours  truly, 

G.  Grey. 

February  12th,  Tasmania.  A  curious  thing  happened  this 
morning.  I  am  obliged  to  rise  at  an  early  hour  on  account  of 
habits  contracted  during  more  than  twenty  years  of  African 
travel,  and  to  avail  myself  of  the  silent  hours  of  the  morning 
to  procure  an  exercise-walk  for  the  sake  of  health.  At  5.30  I 
was  shaving,  and  somehow  my  thoughts  ran  persistently  on 
what  Colonel  J.  A.  Grant  (the  companion  of  Speke)  said  to  me 
in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber  at  Westminster,  on  my  marriage 
day,  July  12th,  1890.  Said  he,  '  I  must  take  this  opportunity 
to  say  a  long  good-bye,  for,  after  to-day,  I  don't  suppose  you 
will  care  to  come  to  my  symposium  and  talk  about  Africa.'  — 
'Why?'  I  asked.  —  '  Oh !  well,  you  are  married  now,  and  mar- 
riage often  parts  the  best  of  male  friends.' —  'Oh,  come!'  I 
replied,  '  I  can't  see  how7  my  marriage  will  affect  our  friend- 
ship ;  I  will  make  it  a  point  to  disprove  what  you  say.'  Then 
Grant  and  I  were  separated.  '  And  it  is  quite  true,'  I  reflected ; 
'we  have  not  met  since,  somehow7.  But  I  will  make  it  a  point 
to  visit  Grant  the  first  evening  after  I  reach  London.'  And  I 
shook  my  razor  at  the  figure  in  the  mirror,  to  confirm  the 
mental  vow.  A  short  time  afterwards,  I  went  down  ;  the  hotel 

1  The  Aruwimi  branch  of  the  Congo.  —  D.  S. 


438  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

was  not  yet  opened.  As  I  put  my  hand  on  the  knob  of  the 
door  to  open  it,  the  morning  paper  was  thrust  underneath 
the  door  by  the  newspaper-boy  outside.  Anxious  to  read 
the  cablegrams  from  London,  I  seized  the  paper,  and  the 
first  news  to  catch  my  attention  was,  —  '  Death  of  Colonel 
J.  A.  Grant,  the  Nile  Explorer.'    What  an  odd  coincidence! 

This  is  the  second  time  in  my  experience  that  a  person 
thousands  of  miles  away  from  me  has  been  suddenly  sug- 
gested to  me  a  few  moments  preceding  an  announcement  of 
this  kind.  From  the  day  I  parted  with  Grant,  till  this  morn- 
ing, his  words  had  not  once  recurred  to  my  mind. 

On  the  other  occasion,  the  message  came  as  an  apparition. 
I  was  in  the  centre  of  some  hundreds  of  men,1  and  the  vision 
of  a  woman  lying  on  her  bed,  dying,  appeared  to  me  suddenly. 
I  heard  her  voice  plainly,  every  item  of  furniture  in  the  room 
was  visible  to  me;  in  fact,  I  had  as  vivid  a  picture  of  the 
room,  and  all  within  it,  as  though  I  stood  there  in  broad 
daylight.  The  vision,  clear  as  it  was,  passed  away,  and  I 
awoke  to  the  reality  of  things  around  me.  I  was  bewildered  to 
find  that  no  one  had  witnessed  any  abstraction  on  my  part, 
though  one  was  so  close,  that  he  touched  me.  Yet,  in  spirit, 
I  had  been  six  thousand  miles  away,  and  saw  my  own  figure  at 
the  bedside  of  the  dying  woman ;  months  after,  when  I  had 
actually  arrived  in  Europe,  I  was  told  that  she  had  died  a 
few  hours  later. 

1  See  page  207. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
POLITICS  AND   FRIENDS 

SOON  after  our  marriage,  I  thought  of  Parliament  for  Stanley. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  one  so  full  of  energy,  with  such  ad- 
ministrative power  and  political  foresight,  would  find  in  the 
House  of  Commons  an  outlet  for  his  pent-up  energy.  I  also  felt  he 
needed  men's  society.  We  had  no  country  home  then,  and  to  be 
shut  up  in  a  London  house  was  certainly  no  life  for  Stanley ;  also, 
at  the  back  of  my  mind  was  the  haunting  fear  of  his  returning  to 
the  Congo.  I  thought  that,  once  in  Parliament,  he  would  be  safely 
anchored. 

At  first,  he  would  not  hear  of  it,  but  his  friend,  Mr.  Alexander 
Bruce,  of  Edinburgh,  joined  me  in  persuading  Stanley  to  become 
Liberal-Unionist  candidate  for  North  Lambeth.  We  went  into  the 
battle  just  ten  days  before  the  polling  day.  We  were  quite  ignorant 
of  electioneering,  and  I  must  say  we  had  a  dreadful  ten  days  of  it. 

Stanley  wrote  in  his  Journal,  Monday,  20th  June,  1892:  — 

'Have  consented  to  contest  the  constituency  of  North 
Lambeth  against  Alderman  Coldwells,  Radical.  I  accepted 
because  D.  is  so  eager  for  me  to  be  employed,  lest  I  fly  away 
again  to  Africa. 

On  the  29th,  Stanley  held  a  great  meeting  at  Hawkeston  Hall, 
Lambeth,  but  he  was  howled  down  by  an  organised  rabble  imported 
for  the  purpose!  The  leader  of  these  rowdies,  stationed  in  the  Gal- 
lery, from  time  to  time  waved  a  folded  newspaper,  which  was  the 
signal  for  fresh  interruptions,  and  an  incredible  din.  The  platform 
was  stormed,  and  we  had  to  withdraw;  when  we  tried  to  get  into 
our  brougham  and  drive  away,  the  roughs  held  on  to  the  door  of 
the  carriage  and  tore  it  off.  Stanley  was  greatly  disgusted :  Afri- 
can savages,  he  thought,  would  have  behaved  better.  He  was  not 
sorry  to  be  beaten,  though  the  majority  against  him  was  only  one 
hundred  and  thirty. 

But  I  persuaded  him  to  remain  the  Liberal-LTnionist  candidate. 
He  thought  the  election  would  not  come  for  some  years,  and  faint- 
heartedly consented,  on  condition  that  he  would  never  be  expected 
to  call  personally  on  voters  —  never  visit  from  '  house-to-house.' 
He  consented  to  speak  at  working-men's  clubs  and  meetings,  but 
''never  will  I  degrade  myself  by  asking  a  man  for  his  vote,'  and  no 
man  can  boast  that  Stanley  ever  did  so. 


440  HENRY   M.  STANLEY 

I  shall  remember  those  meetings  to  my  life's  end.  No  one  present 
could  ever  forget  them.  They  took  place  at  the  local '  Constitutional 
Club  '  — in  the  York  Road,  Lambeth — and  in  various  school-rooms. 
Here  Stanley  for  some  years,  as  candidate,  and  then  as  member, 
spoke  on  the  great  questions  of  the  day. 

He  spoke  to  them  of  Empire,  of  Commerce,  of  what  the  Uganda 
railway  could  do  —  that  railway  which  the  Liberals  had  so  hotly 
objected  to  constructing!  He  showed  them  what  Home-Rule  in 
Ireland  really  meant.  He  explained  to  them  the  Egyptian  position ; 
every  subject  he  made  clear.  He  did  not  harangue  working-men  on 
their  wrongs,  nor  on  their  rights,  but  he  spoke  to  them  of  their  duty, 
and  why  they  should  give  of  their  best  and  highest.  He  told  them 
about  our  colonies,  how  they  were  made,  not  by  loafers,  but  by  men 
eager  to  carve  out  their  own  fortunes;  and  he  told  them  what  man- 
ner of  man  was  required  there  now.  He  spoke  with  the  greatest 
earnestness  and  simplicity,  rising  at  times  into  a  fiery  eloquence 
which  stirred  the  heart.  I  hardly  ever  failed  to  accompany  him  to 
those  meetings. 

Stanley  took  infinite  trouble  with  these  speeches,  as  with  every- 
thing else  he  did.  He  wrote  them  out  carefully,  so  as  to  impress  the 
subject  on  his  memory;  but  he  did  not  read,  nor  repeat  them  by 
rote. 

These  lectures  and  addresses  taught  me  a  great  deal,  and  further 
revealed  to  me  the  splendid  power  of  Stanley. 

I  used  to  wish  he  had  greater  and  better-educated  audiences;  but 
he  never  considered  any  such  efforts  too  much  trouble,  if  the  hum- 
blest and  poorest  listened  intelligently.  I  here  give  his  first  address 
to  the  electors  of  North  Lambeth,  in  1892. 

Gentlemen,  I  venture  to  offer  myself  as  your  representa- 
tive in  Parliament,  in  place  of  your  esteemed  member  who  has 
just  resigned. 

The  circumstances  under  which  I  place  my  sendees  at  your 
disposal,  if  somewhat  unusual,  are,  I  hope,  such  as  may  dis- 
pose you,  at  least,  to  believe  in  my  earnest  desire  to  serve 
you,  and  in  serving  you  to  serve  my  country. 

Gentlemen,  my  one  mastering  desire  is  for  the  maintenance, 
the  spread,  the  dignity,  the  usefulness  of  the  British  Empire. 
I  believe  that  we  Englishmen  are  working  out  the  greatest 
destiny  which  any  race  has  ever  fulfilled,  but  we  must  go  on, — 
or  we  shall  go  back.  There  must  be  firm  and  steady  guidance 
in  Downing  Street,  there  must  be  an  invincible  fleet  upon  the 
seas,  if  trade  is  to  expand,  and  emigrants  to  spread  and  settle, 
and  the  name  of  England  still  to  be  reverenced  in  ever}-  quar- 
ter of  the  globe.   From  which  of  the  two  great  English  parties 


POLITICS  AND   FRIENDS  441 

—  I  ask  myself,  and  I  ask  you  —  may  we  expect  the  firmest, 
the  steadiest  guidance,  the  most  unflinching  effort  to  maintain 
our  naval  strength  ?  The  whole  colonial  and  foreign  policy  of 
England  under  the  last  two  administrations  prompts  to  no 
doubtful  reply.  I  have  followed  that  policy,  not  as  a  partisan, 
but  as  a  man  deeply,  vitally,  concerned ;  a  man  who,  at  least, 
has  based  his  opinions  upon  practical  and  personal  convers- 
ance with  great  and  difficult  affairs.  I  say,  unhesitatingly, 
that  I  believe  that  the  continuance  of  Lord  Salisbury's  firm, 
temperate,  wise  foreign  policy  is  worth  to  England  millions  of 
money,  and  again,  far  more  important  than  money,  though 
harder  to  measure  in  national  power,  national  usefulness,  and 
national  honour. 

First  of  all  the  merits  of  Lord  Salisbury's  Government,  in 
my  eyes,  comes  the  enormous  strengthening  of  the  navy. 
Gentlemen,  that  is  the  essential  thing.  In  this  island,  in  this 
great  city  alone,  is  a  treasure  of  life  and  wealth  such  as  no 
nation  ever  had  to  guard  before.  It  is  no  small  achievement 
to  have  insured  that  wealth,  those  lives,  by  seventy  new  ships 
of  war,  while  at  the  same  time  lightening  taxation,  and  remit- 
ting especially  those  burdens  which  the  poorest  felt  the  most. 

Gentlemen,  I  am,  as  you  know,  a  man  of  the  people.  What- 
ever I  have  achieved  in  life  has  been  achieved  by  my  own 
hard  work,  with  no  help  from  privilege,  or  favour  of  any  kind. 
My  strongest  sympathies  are  with  the  working-classes.  And 
had  the  conflict  of  parties  now  been,  as  it  once  was,  a  conflict 
between  a  few  aristocrats  and  many  workers,  between  privi- 
lege and  popular  rights,  I  should  have  ranged  myself,  assur- 
edly, on  the  workers'  side.  But  I  now  see  no  such  conflict.  I 
see  both  sides  following  the  people's  mandate,  honestly  en- 
deavouring to  better  the  condition  of  the  masses,  and  I  see 
the  Unionist  party  actually  effecting  those  reforms  of  which 
Radicals  are  too  often  content  to  talk.  Most  of  all  do  I  see 
this  in  Ireland,  —  looking  with  a  fresh  eye,  and  with  no  party 
prepossessions,  upon  the  Irish  affairs,  I  cannot  but  perceive 
that  while  others  may  have  declaimed  eloquently,  Mr. 
Balfour  has  governed  wisely;  that  while  others  propose  to 
throw  all  into  the  melting-pot,  in  the  hope  of  some  magical 
change  which  no  one  can  define,  Mr.  Balfour  and  his  col- 
leagues are  successfully  employing  all  these  methods,  —  steady 


442  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

and  gentle  rule,  development  of  natural  resources,  adminis- 
trative foresight  and  skill,  which  have,  in  times  past,  welded 
divided  countries  into  unity,  and  lifted  distressed  and  trou- 
bled communities  into  prosperity  and  peace. 

I  sympathise  with  all  that  the  present  Government  has 
well  done  and  wisely  planned  for  the  bettering  of  the  lot  of 
the  people ;  to  all  such  measures  I  will  give  the  best  thought 
that  I  can  command.  Yet  I  cannot  but  feel  that  the  destiny 
of  the  English  working-classes  depends  in  the  last  resort  on 
measures,  on  enterprises,  of  a  larger  scope.  In  the  highlands 
of  Africa,  which  skilful  diplomacy  has  secured  for  England, 
those  lands  to  which  the  Mombasa  Railway  will  be  the  first 
practicable  road,  there  is  room  and  to  spare  for  some  twenty 
millions  of  happy  and  prosperous  people.  There  is  no  need  for 
the  poorest  among  us  to  covet  his  neighbour's  wealth,  while 
nature  still  offers  such  immense,  such  inexhaustible  boons. 
Only  let  England  be  united  at  home,  wise  abroad,  and  no  man 
can  assign  a  limit  to  the  stability  of  our  Empire,  or  to  the 
prosperity  of  her  sons. 

In  conclusion,  the  preservation  of  peace,  with  jealous  care 
of  the  dignity  and  honour  of  the  Empire,  the  wonderful 
economies  effected  during  the  past  six  years,  the  readiness  to 
reform  judiciously  where  reform  was  necessary,  as  manifested 
by  Lord  Salisbury's  Government,  are  worthy  of  our  best  sym- 
pathies; and  if  you  will  do  me  the  honour  to  return  me  to 
Parliament,  I  promise  to  be  active  and  faithful  in  the  dis- 
charge of  my  duties  to  my  constituency. 

I  am, 

Yours  sincerely, 

Henry  M.  Stanley. 

2,  Richmond  Terrace,  Whitehall,  London, 
June  21st,  1892. 

^  After  our  defeat  in  1892,  I  received  the  following  letter  from  Sir 
George  Grey,  who  was  still  in  Auckland,  New  Zealand :  — 

October,  1893. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Stanley,  —  I  am  only  just  recovered  from 
a  long  and  serious  illness,  and  can  as  yet  hardly  hold  my  pen, 
but  I  am  so  ashamed  of  not  having  written  to  you,  that  I  am 
determined  to  make  an  effort  to  do  so,  and  to  ask  for  your 


POLITICS   AND   FRIENDS  443 

forgiveness.  I  was  seriously  sorry  at  Stanley  losing  his  elec- 
tion, although  we  should  have  been  on  different  sides  in  poli- 
tics; but  his  profound  judgement  and  knowledge  of  African 
affairs  would  have  been  of  the  greatest  service  in  Parliament, 
and  would,  I  believe,  have  prevented  the  Government  from 
committing  many  errors.  But  the  fact  is,  that  Stanley's  ser- 
vices to  the  empire  have  been  too  great  and  too  unusual,  and 
I  ought  to  have  known  he  would  have  to  undergo  many  trials ; 
perhaps  he  is  lucky  in  having  escaped  being  put  in  chains, 
as  Columbus  was !  Men  of  this  kind  have  no  business  to  act 
in  the  unusual  manner  they  generally  do,  throwing  their  con- 
temporaries in  the  shade  —  this  is  never  forgiven ! 

However,  these  truly  great  men  can  bear  misfortunes  in 
whatever  guise  they  come,  like  heroes,  and  thus  add  greater 
lustre  to  their  ultimate  renown,  and  will  make  their  history 
much  more  wonderful  reading.  Those  who  climb  to  heights 
must  expect  to  meet  with  toils  and  many  trials.  Give  my 
regards  to  Stanley,  who,  tried  in  so  many,  and  such  vast  toils 
and  dangers,  whilst  working  for  his  fellow-men,  will  not  falter 
now. 

Truly  yours, 

G.  Grey. 

In  January,  1893,  Stanley  wrote  to  me  at  Cambridge,  where  I  was 
spending  a  week:  — 

Having  announced  my  intention  of  standing  again  as  can- 
didate for  X.  Lambeth,  I  propose  doing  so,  of  course,  for  your 
sake ;  but  after  my  experience  in  Xorth  Lambeth  you  must 
not  expect  any  enthusiasm,  any  of  that  perseverant  energy, 
which  I  may  have  shewn  elsewhere,  and  which  I  could  still 
show  in  an  honourable  sphere. 

But  this  political  work  involves  lying,  back-biting,  morally- 
damaging  your  opponent  in  the  eyes  of  the  voters,  giving  and 
receiving  wordy  abuse,  which  reminds  me  of  English  village 
squabbles;  and  I  cannot  find  the  courage  either  to  open  my 
lips  against  my  opponent,  or  to  put  myself  in  a  position  to 
receive  from  him  and  his  mindless  myrmidons  that  filthy 
abuse  they  are  only  too  eager  to  give.  That  so  many  members 
of  Parliament  can  do  so,  smiling,  only  shows  difference  of 
training  as  well  as  difference  of  character  between  us.  I  do  not 


444  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

respect  them  less  for  the  capacity  of  being  indifferent  to  the 
vileness,  but  rather  feel  admiration  that  they  can  do  some- 
thing which  I  cannot  do.  If  I  were  once  in  the  House,  possibly 
I  should  not  feel  so  thin-skinned,  and  at  the  next  fight,  I  should 
probably  be  able  to  face  it  better ;  but,  not  being  in  the  House, 
and,  finding  the  House  moated  around  by  the  cess-pool  of 
slander  and  calumny,  I  detest  the  prospect  of  wading  in  for 
so  doubtful  a  satisfaction. 

You  remember  that  meeting  in  Lambeth.  Well !  I  have 
been  through  some  stiff  scenes  in  my  life,  but  I  never  fell  so 
low  in  my  own  estimation  as  I  fell  that  day ;  to  stand  there 
being  slighted,  insulted  by  venomous  tongues  every  second, 
and  yet  to  feel  how  hopeless,  nay  impossible,  retort  was !  and 
to  realise  that  I  had  voluntarily  put  myself  in  a  position  to  be 
bespattered  with  as  much  foul  reproaches  as  those  ignorant 
fools  chose  to  fling ! 

I  will,  nevertheless,  stand  again,  but  my  forbearance  must 
not  be  tested  too  far.  I  declare  my  strict  resolve  never  to  ask 
for  a  vote,  never  to  do  any  silly  personal  canvassing  in  high 
streets  or  by-streets,  never  to  address  open-air  meetings, 
cart  or  wagon  work,  or  to  put  myself  in  any  position  where  I 
can  be  baited  like  a  bull  in  the  ring.  The  honour  of  M.  P.  is 
not  worth  it. 

If  it  is  not  possible  to  represent  North  Lambeth  without 
putting  my  dignity  under  the  Juggernaut  of  Demos,  let 
Demos  find  someone  else.  I  will  visit  committees,  and  would 
be  pleased  to  receive  them  anywhere ;  I  will  speak  at  clubs  and 
committee-rooms,  or  any  halls,  and  pay  the  expenses,  etc.,  but 
that  is  all.  But  this  shall  be  my  final  effort.  If  I  am  beaten, 
I  hope  it  will  be  by  an  overwhelming  majority,  which  will 
for  ever  prove  my  incapacity  as  a  candidate. 

Six  or  seven  years  ago  I  was  a  different  man  altogether,  but 
this  last  expedition  has  sapped  my  delight  in  the  rude  enjoy- 
ments of  life,  though  never  at  any  time  could  I  have  looked 
upon  electioneering  as  enjoyable.  The  whole  business  seems 
to  me  degrading.  I  refuse  to  promise  to  the  people  that  which 
I  think  harmful  to  the  nation.  I  object  to  the  abject  attitude 
of  politicians  towards  constituents.  If  I  stand,  it  is  as  their 
leader,  not  their  slave.  I  shall  go  to  Parliament  simply  to  work 
for  some  good  end,  and  not  for  personal  objects. 


POLITICS  AND   FRIENDS  445 

I  now  realised  that  since  usage  and  custom  demand  that  the 
Parliamentary  candidate  shall  call  on  the  voters,  and  that  Stanley 
positively,  and  I  think  rightly,  refused  to  do  so,  we  were  in  danger 
of  losing  the  Constituency. 

I  realised  that  whichever  way  the  working-man  means  to  vote, 
he  likes  to  feel  he  has  something  you  want,  something  he  can  give. 
He  likes  even  to  refuse  you,  and  oblige  you  to  listen  to  his  views  and 
his  principles.  So,  if  you  do  not  choose  to  go  and  kow-tow  before  him, 
he  puts  you  down  as  '  no  good,'  or,  at  any  rate,  '  not  my  sort.'  After 
our  defeat,  therefore,  in  1892,  I  resolved  to  '  nurse  '  North  Lambeth, 
since  that  is  the  accepted  term,  and  to  do  so  in  my  own  way. 

It  was  hard  work,  undoubtedly,  but  very  interesting  and  instruc- 
tive ;  I  had  some  unforgettable  experiences,  and  on  the  whole  I  was 
very  kindly  and  pleasantly  received. 

1893.  —  February-  21st.  General  Beauregard  died  last 
night  at  New  Orleans.  He  was  my  old  General  at  the  Battle 
of  Shiloh,  1862.  I  remember,  even  now,  how  enthusiastic  my 
fellow-soldiers  were  about  him,  and  I,  being  but  an  inconsid- 
erate boy,  caught  the  fever  of  admiration  and  raved.  Thank 
Heaven  there  were  no  reporters  to  record  a  boy's  ravings! 
This  is  not  to  say  that  he  was  not  worthy  of  the  soldiers' 
respect.  But  his  achievements  were  not  those  of  a  military 
genius,  and  genius  alone  deserves  such  unmeasured  praise  as 
we  gave  him. 

The  Civil  War  only  developed  two  first-rank  men,  and  those 
were  Grant  and  Lee,  but  in  the  second  rank  there  were  many 
who  might  possibly,  with  opportunities,  have  rivalled  the 
first  two.  I  believe  if  it  were  put  to  the  vote  of  the  military- 
class  as  to  which  was  the  greater  of  the  two  greatest  captains 
of  the  war,  the  vote  would  be  cast  for  Robert  E.  Lee.  Never- 
theless, there  was  something  in  Grant  which,  though  not  so 
showy  as  the  strategy  and  dash  of  Lee,  makes  me  cast  my 
vote  for  Grant. 

March  10th.  Mrs.  Annie  Ingham  died  this  day  on  the 
Congo,  aged  thirty-seven.  She  was  the  wife  of  Charles  E. 
Ingham,  ex-lifeguardsman,  and  missionary,  mentioned  in 
'Darkest  Africa.'  She  was  a  sweet,  good  woman.  She  is  now 
safe  in  that  heavenly  home  she  laboured  so  hard  to  deserve. 
Such  women  as  this  one  are  the  very  salt  of  our  race. 

June  1 2th.  Went  to  hear  Lord  Salisbury's  speech  at  the 
Surrey  Theatre.  He  just  misses  being  an  orator.  Nature  has 
given  him  a  personality;  a  voice,  education,  experience,  ob- 


446  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

servation,  and  rank,  have  all  contributed  elements  to  the 
forming  of  an  orator,  and  yet  he  lacks  two  things  —  imagina- 
tion and  fire.  With  those  two  qualities  which  he  lacks,  how 
he  would  have  swayed  that  audience,  how  he  would  have 
straightened  himself,  and  with  the  power  of  eye  and  voice, 
and  the  right  word,  he  would  have  lifted  everyone  to  a  pitch 
of  enthusiasm  such  as  is  almost  unknown  in  England. 

June  22nd,  Thursday.  My  dear  old  friend  Sir  William 
Mackinnon,  Bart.,  died  this  morning  at  9.45,  after  a  long 
illness  contracted  on  his  yacht  'Cornelia,'  as  the  result  of  a 
cold,  and  deep  depression  of  spirits  created  by  a  sense  that  his 
labours,  great  expenditure,  and  exercise  of  influence  over  his 
friends  on  behalf  of  British  East  Africa,  were  not  appreciated 
as  they  deserved  by  Lord  Rosebery  and  his  colleagues  in  the 
Government.  A  lack  of  appreciation  is  indeed  a  mild  term  for 
the  callous  indifference  shown  by  the  Rosebery  Government. 

Sir  William  had  for  years  (since  1878)  been  feeling  his  way 
towards  this  great  achievement.  By  dint  of  generosity,  long 
continued,  he  finally  won  the  confidence  of  successive  Sultans 
of  Zanzibar,  especially  Syyed  Barghash,  and  when  once  that 
confidence  was  established,  he  gradually  developed  his  pro- 
jects, by  which  he,  as  well  as  the  Sultan,  might  greatly  profit. 
Being  already  rich  enough  for  gratifying  his  very  simple 
wants,  he  wished  to  lead  his  friend  the  Sultan  into  the  path  of 
profitable  enterprise.  He  was  ably  seconded  by  Sir  John  Kirk 
and  Fred  Holmwood,  the  Consul-general ;  and,  though  it  was 
tedious  work,  he  finally  succeeded. 

I  claim  to  have  assisted  him  considerably  during  my  stay 
in  1887,  and  it  was  according  to  my  advice  that  Barghash 
finally  consented  to  sign  the  Concession,  and  Mackinnon  hur- 
ried on  the  negotiation.  A  few  weeks  after  I  left,  the  Conces- 
sion was  signed,  and  Mackinnon' s  way  to  form  a  Company, 
and  obtain  a  Charter  from  the  British  Government,  was  clear. 
Sir  William  subscribed  fifty  thousand  pounds  to  the  capital, 
and  raised  the  remainder  from  among  his  own  friends,  for  no 
friend  of  Mackinnon  could  possibly  resist  a  request  from  him. 

The  object  of  the  Company  was  mainly  commercial,  and, 
left  alone  by  politicians,  Mackinnon  was  the  man  to  make 
it  remunerative.  But  after  the  advent  of  Germany  into  the 
African  field,  with  Bismarck  at  the  helm,  and  the  principles 


POLITICS  AND   FRIENDS  447 

declared  at  the  Berlin  conference  behind  them,  it  became  neces- 
sary, in  order  to  prevent  collisions  between  Mackinnon's 
Company  and  the  Germans,  to  give  the  East  African  Company 
a  political  status ;  hence,  with  the  utmost  good-will  and  pro- 
mises of  support,  the  Charter  was  given  to  it  by  the  British 
Government,  and  the  Company  thereby  incurred  tremendous 
responsibilities. 

Egged  on,  urged  on,  advised,  spurred,  encouraged  by  Her 
Majesty's  Government,  the  Company  had  first  of  all  quickly 
to  gain  other  Concessions,  for  the  Sultan's  only  covered  the 
maritime  region;  and  this  meant  the  despatch  of  a  series  of 
costly  expeditions  into  the  interior,  over  a  region  that  embraced 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  square  miles ;  and  as  this  region  was 
almost  unexplored,  these  expeditions  meant  the  employment 
of  some  thousands  of  armed  and  equipped  natives,  led  by  Eng- 
lish officers.  Between  1887  and  1 890,  some  thousands  of  pounds 
were  squandered  in  these  costly  enterprises,  and  the  capital 
that  rightly  was  called  for  the  development  of  the  commerce 
of  the  maritime  region,  and  would  surely  have  been  remunera- 
tive, was  thus  wasted  on  purely  political  work;  which  the 
national  exchequer  should  have  paid  for. 

In  1890,  the  Mackinnon  Company  entered  Uganda,  and, 
on  account  of  the  territories  turned  over  to  it  by  me,  the 
government  of  the  Company  extended  from  Mombasa  to  the 
Albert  Edward  Nyanza,  and  North  to  the  White  Nile,  and 
South  of  i°S.  The  Company  bravely  and  patriotically  held  on, 
however,  and  sustained  the  enormous  expense  of  maintaining 
the  communications  open  between  Uganda  and  the  sea ;  but 
it  soon  became  evident  to  Mackinnon,  who  was  always  so 
hopeful  and  cheerful,  that  the  responsibilities  were  becoming 
too  great  for  his  Company. 

The  transport  of  goods  to  Uganda  to  sustain  the  force  re- 
quired to  occupy  it,  was  very  costly.  Every  ton  cost  three 
hundred  pounds  to  carry  to  Uganda ;  that  is,  it  required  forty 
men  to  carry  a  ton,  and  as  the  distance  was  three  months' 
travel  from  the  coast,  and  little  less  than  three  months  to 
return,  and  each  man  received  one  pound  per  month,  two  hun- 
dred and  forty  pounds  was  required  for  the  pay  of  these 
forty  men  for  six  months,  exclusive  of  their  rations.  The 
force  in  Uganda,  the  various  garrisons  maintained  along  the 


448  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

route,  would  naturally  consume  several  hundred  tons  of  goods 
each  year,  and  every  additional  act  of  pressure  from  the 
Government  increased  this  consumption  and  expense. 

It  is  thus  easily  seen  how,  when  the  Government,  always 
extravagant  when  they  manage  things  themselves,  dipped 
their  hands  into  the  coffers  of  a  private  Company,  bankruptcy 
could  not  be  far  off.  Though  Mackinnon,  through  patriotism, 
held  on  much  longer  than  his  friends  deemed  prudent,  he  at 
last  informed  the  Rosebery  Government  that  the  Company 
intended  to  abandon  Uganda  and  the  interior,  and  confine 
themselves  to  their  own  proper  business,  namely  commerce, 
unless  they  were  assisted  by  a  subsidy. 

I  happened  to  be  in  Mackinnon's  room  at  The  Burlington 
a  few  minutes  after  he  had  sent  the  Foreign  Office  messenger 
with  his  answer  to  Lord  Rosebery's  question,  what  was  the 
least  sum  the  Company  would  accept  per  annum  for  five  years 
to  undertake,  or  rather  to  continue,  the  administration  of 
Uganda,  and  I  was  told  that  Mackinnon's  answer  was  fifty 
thousand  pounds. 

I  remember  when  I  heard  the  amount  that  I  thought  the 
matter  was  all  over,  for  Rosebery,  with  Harcourt  supervising 
the  treasury,  would  never  have  the  courage  to  allow  such  a 
sum.  Why  had  he  not  asked  for  half  that  amount,  twenty-five 
thousand  pounds?  'But  even  fifty  thousand  pounds  is  insuffi- 
cient,' cried  Mackinnon.  'Certainly,  after  the  style  in  which 
you  have  been  administering  during  the  last  eighteen  months ; 
but  it  is  clear  by  the  nature  of  Rosebery's  question,  that 
"administering  Uganda"  means  simply  its  occupation,  and 
keeping  things  quiet  in  order  to  prevent  its  being  abandoned 
to  Germany,  or  reverting  to  the  barbarous  methods  of  M wanga. 
Rosebery  wants  to  stand  well  with  the  country,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  pacify  Harcourt.  And  twenty-five  thousand 
pounds  a  year  he  could  easily  persuade  Harcourt  to  grant.' 

We  were  still  engaged  in  discussing  this  subject  when  the 
F.  O.  messenger  returned  with  another  letter.  Mackinnon's 
hand  trembled  as  he  opened  it,  and  when  he  had  fully  under- 
stood the  letter,  it  was  only  by  a  great  effort  he  was  able  to 
suppress  his  emotions.  The  letter  contained  but  a  few  lines, 
to  the  effect  that  the  sum  demanded  was  impossible,  and  that 
there  was  no  more  to  be  said  on  the  matter. 


POLITICS  AND   FRIENDS  449 

From  that  day  my  dear  old  friend  became  less  cheerful ; 
he  was  too  great  a  soul  to  lay  bare  his  feelings,  but  those  who 
knew  him  were  at  no  loss  to  find  that  the  kind  old  face  masked 
a  good  deal  of  inward  suffering ;  had  one  questioned  me  about 
him,  I  should  have  said,  'I  believe  that  as  Mackinnon,  since 
he  made  his  fortune  and  was  childless,  devoted  his  ripest  and 
wisest  years  and  the  greater  part  of  his  fortune  to  this  idea, 
which,  like  the  King  of  the  Belgians,  he  had  of  making  an 
African  State  valuable  to  his  Government  and  people,  he  was 
struck  to  the  heart  by  Rosebery's  curt  refusal  to  consider 
his  offer  and  his  determination  to  displace  the  Company  by 
the  Government.  Had  Rosebery  said  he  was  willing  to  allow 
twenty-five  thousand  pounds,  Mackinnon  would  have  accepted 
it  rather  than  the  world  should  say  he  had  failed.  East  Africa 
had  become  Mackinnon's  love,  his  pride,  and  the  one  im- 
portant object  of  life.  Mackinnon's  soul  was  noble,  his  mind 
above  all  pettiness.  His  life  was  now  bereft  of  its  object,  and 
the  mainspring  of  effort  had  been  removed,  and  so  he  visibly 
declined,  and  death  came  in  kindness. 

Sunday,  25th  June.  Called  at  the  Burlington  Hotel,  and 
viewed  the  body.  I  found  the  Marquis  of  Lome  there,  and 
both  of  us  were  much  affected  at  seeing  the  small,  still  body 
on  the  bed.  Was  this  the  end  of  so  many  aspirations  and 
struggles !  I  am  glad  I  knew  him,  for  he  was  in  some  things  a 
model  character,  great  of  soul,  though  small  of  body.  Too 
generous  at  times,  and  parsimonious  where  I  would  have  been 
almost  lavish ;  and  yet  I  loved  him  for  the  very  faults  which 
I  saw,  because,  without  them,  he  would  not  have  been  just 
my  dear  Mackinnon,  whose  presence,  somehow,  was  always 
a  joy  to  me. 

Tuesday,  at  10  A.  M.,  I  left  for  Balinakill,  Argyleshire,  to 
attend  the  funeral  of  my  friend  Mackinnon.  Arrived  Wednes- 
day. We  walked  from  his  house,  after  a  simple  service  in 
the  dining-room,  which  had  witnessed  such  hospitable  feasts, 
and  kindly-hearted  gatherings.  The  coffin  was  borne  on  the 
shoulders  of  relays  of  the  Clachan  villagers.  In  the  parish 
grave-yard  was  an  open  grave,  as  for  a  peasant,  into  which 
the  sumptuous  oak  coffin,  enclosing  a  leaden  one,  was  low- 
ered. Two  bundles  of  hay  were  spread  over  the  coffin,  and 
then  the  earth  was  shovelled  in,  and  in  a  short  time  all  that 


450  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

was  mortal  of  a  dearly-loved  man  lay  beneath  a  common 
mound. 

July  5th.  Attended  a  Garden-party  at  Marlborough  House. 
I  generally  dislike  these  mobs  of  people;  but  I  met  several 
interesting  characters  here,  and,  of  course,  the  Prince  and 
Princess  of  Wales  were,  as  usual,  charming. 

July  13th.  Glanced  over  Burton's  Life — it  is  written  by  his 
wife.  It  is  very  interesting,  but  the  real  Burton  is  not  to  be 
found  in  this  book;  that  is,  as  he  was  to  a  keen  observer 
of  his  character  and  actions. 

During  the  autumn,  I  received  the  following  letters  from  Stanley  : 

Cromer,  October  17th,  1893.  Yesterday  was  a  most  enjoy- 
able day  for  me.  I  feel  its  effects  in  an  all-round  completeness 
of  health. 

At  8.50  A.  M.,  I  was  off  by  slow  train,  creeping,  creeping 
west,  within  view  of  the  sea  for  some  time,  then  turning  round 
a  great  horseshoe  curve  to  east,  as  though  the  railway  pro- 
jectors had  thought  it  necessary  to  show  all  that  was  really 
beautiful  in  these  parts  before  taking  the  traveller  towards  the 
mouth  of  the  Yare. 

As  I  have  been  immensely  pleased  with  the  views  so  gained, 
I  am  grateful.  All  this  part  of  East  Anglia  is  wholly  new  to 
me,  and  not  yet  having  you  to  talk  to,  my  inward  comments 
upon  what  I  saw  were  more  exclamatory  than  otherwise. 

The  beauty  of  this  country  is  like  the  beauty  of  a  fair  Puri- 
tan ;  it  is  modest,  and  wholesome ;  no  flashiness,  nor  regality, 
no  proud  uplift  of  majesty,  no  flaunting  of  wealth,  or  sugges- 
tion of  worldliness ;  but  quiet  English  homesteads,  and  little 
church-loving  villages,  tidy  copses,  lowly  vales,  and  sweet, 
modest  hills,  breathed  over  by  the  sea-air,  which  the  lungs 
inhale  with  grateful  gasps. 

By  half-past  eleven  we  rolled  into  Yarmouth,  and,  with  only 
an  umbrella  in  hand,  I  made  my  way  to  the  sea,  by  a  street 
which  has  some  very  nice  houses  of  the  modern  Surrey-villa 
type.  This  was  the  reverse  of  what  I  had  expected  to  see. 
Presently,  I  was  on  the  parade,  a  straight  two  miles,  flanked 
on  one  side  by  a  long  line  of  sea-side  houses,  and  on  the  other 
by  a  broad,  sandy  strand,  smoothly  sloping  to  a  greenish  sea. 
Three  or  four  piers  running  out  from  the  drive  caused  me  to 


POLITICS  AND   FRIENDS  451 

think  that  the  place  must  be  crowded  in  the  season.  I  can 
imagine  the  fine  expanse  of  sands  populous  with  children, 
nurses,  and  parents ;  music,  in  the  air,  from  the  band-stands, 
and  a  brisk  circulation  of  human  beings  from  all  parts  around ; 
the  famous  Yarmouth  yawls,  doing  a  good  business  with  the 
ambitious  youths,  who  wish  to  boast  of  having  sailed  on  the 
sea,  when  they  return  from  their  holidays;  the  seats  com- 
fortably filled  with  those  who  wish  to  fill  the  eye  with  the 
sights  of  the  sea,  and  the  ear  with  the  sound  of  artificial  music, 
blended  with  the  countless  whispers  of  the  waves ! 

I  strode  down  this  parade,  debating  many  things  in  my 
mind.  I  went  past  a  military  or  naval  hospital,  a  battery  of 
old-fashioned,  muzzle-loaders,  which  I  fancy  are  not  of  much 
use  except  as  means  of  drilling  volunteers;  then  I  came  to 
a  tall  monument  to  Nelson  —  at  a  point  of  land  given  up 
to  rubbish  and  net-drying,  when  I  found  that  I  had  been  trav- 
elling parallel  with  the  Yare,  and  was  now  at  its  mouth.  I 
crossed  this  point,  and  on  coming  to  the  river,  walked  up 
along  the  interesting  quay.  I  was  well  rewarded,  for  as  pic- 
turesque a  sight  as  can  be  found  in  any  sea-side  town,  in  any 
country,  met  me. 

The  river  is  narrow,  not  quite  the  width  of  the  Maritime 
Canal  of  Suez,  I  should  say,  but  every  inch  of  it  seems  service- 
able to  commerce.  The  useful  stream  is  crowded  with  coast 
shipping,  trawlers,  luggers,  small  steamers,  and  inland  barges, 
which  lie  mainly  in  a  long  line  alongside  this  quay.  It  did  my 
heart  good  to  see  the  deep-bellied,  strong,  substantial  vessels 
of  the  fisher-class,  and  still  more  entertainment  I  obtained  in 
viewing  the  types  of  men  who  handled  the  fish,  and  the  salt. 
The  seed  of  the  old  vikings  and  Anglian  invaders  of  Britain 
were  all  round  me,  as  fond  of  the  sea  as  their  brave  old 
ancestors ! 

I  saw  some  splendid  specimens  of  manhood  among  them, 
who  were,  I  am  certain,  as  proud  of  their  avocation  as  the 
Rothschilds  can  be  of  banking.  It  was  far  better  than  going 
to  a  theatre  to  watch  the  healthy  fellows  swinging  up  their 
crates  of  salted  herrings  —  the  gusto  of  hoisting,  hand-over- 
hand —  the  breezy,  hearty  lightsomeness  of  action  —  the  faces 
as  truly  reflecting  the  gladness  of  the  heart  as  the  summer 
sea  obeys  the  summer  air. 


452  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

I  turned  away  deeply  gratified  by  the  sight,  and  sure  that 
these  fellows  thought  little  of  Home-Rule  and  other  disturb- 
ing questions. 

On  reaching  a  bridge  across  the  Yare,  I  found  myself  in 
1  Hall  quay  '  with  the  Cromwell  House,  Star,  Crown,  and 
Anchor,  and  other  old-fashioned  houses.  Then  I  turned  into 
one  of  the  rows,  as  the  narrow  alley-like  streets  are  called, 
taking  brief  glances  at  the  cheap  wares  for  sale  —  boots,  shod 
with  iron,  the  nails  recalling  memories  of  early  farm-life ;  muf- 
flers of  past  days;  ' two-penny-ha' -penny '  wares  in  general, 
suitable  for  the  slim  purses  of  poor  holiday-makers. 

Then,  after  a  long  tour,  I  struck  into  a  street  running 
towards  the  sea,  where  the  quieter  people  love  to  brood  and 
dream  away  their  summer.  Finally,  I  came  to  the  '  Queen's,' 
ordered  my  lunch,  and  afterwards  took  train  to  Norwich.  As 
I  was  not  yet  too  tired  for  sight-seeing,  I  drove  to  the  Cathe- 
dral. It  is  like  a  long  Parish-church  within.  The  gateways  are 
grim-looking  objects,  similar  to  many  I  have  seen  elsewhere, 
but  quite  ancient  and  venerable.  The  Cloisters,  however,  are 
grand,  over  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  square,  and  as  good  as 
we  saw  in  Italy,  to  my  mind.  The  Close  has  a  remarkably 
ecclesiastical  privacy  and  respectability  about  it,  but  had  not 
enough  greenery,  green  sward  or  foliage,  to  be  perfect.  Hence 
I  wandered  to  the  Castle,  about  which  I  had  read  so  much  in 
a  lately-published  romance. 

What  one  sees  is  only  a  modern  representation  of  the  fine 
old  keep,  around  which  the  writer  had  woven  his  story,  and  I 
suppose  it  is  faithful  to  the  original,  without;  but  through  the 
windows  one  sees  a  glass  roof,  and  then  it  is  evident  that  the 
building  is  only  a  shell,  got  up  as  for  a  Chicago  Exhibition. 

The  mound  on  which  it  stands,  and  the  deep,  dry  ditch 
around,  are  sufficiently  ancient.  As  I  walked  around  the 
Castle,  old  Norwich  looked  enchanting.  I  cannot  tell  whether 
the  town  is  worth  looking  at,  but  I  have  seldom  seen  one 
which  appeared  to  promise  so  much.  The  worst  of  these  old 
towns  is  that  their  hotels  are  always  so  depressing.  If  the 
Grand  Hotel  of  Cromer  was  at  Yarmouth,  it  would  totally 
change  the  character  of  the  town,  and  so  would  a  similar  one 
for  Norwich.  On  the  Continent,  they  have  just  as  interesting 
old  towns  to  show  the  visitor,  but  they  have  also  good  hotels. 


POLITICS  AND   FRIENDS  453 

Yarmouth  beach  is  equal  to  that  of  Cromer,  but  the  hotels  are 
deadly-dull  places. 

Well,  after  a  good  three  hours'  walk,  I  took  the  train  for 
Cromer.  It  was  a  happy  thought  of  mine  coming  here.  I  love 
to  look  at  the  sea,  and  hear  the  windows  rattle,  and  the  sough- 
ing of  the  waves ;  and  between  me  and  these  delights,  nothing 
human  intervenes.  For  the  sight  of  the  sea  is  better  than 
the  sight  of  any  human  face  just  now.  Whenever  the  nerves 
quiver  with  unrest,  depend  upon  it,  the  ocean  and  the  songs 
of  the  wind  are  more  soothing  than  anything  else ;  so  when 
you  arrive  you  will  find  me  purified,  and  renovated  somewhat, 
by  this  ogling  with  quiet  nature. 

Cromer,  October,  1893.  How  I  do  begrudge  the  time  spent 
on  trifles,  interminable  waste  of  time,  and  prodigal  waste  of 
precious  life  as  though  our  hours  were  exhaustless.  When  I 
think  of  it !  Ah,  but  no  more !  That  way  madness  lies !  Oh  !  I 
am  delighted  with  this  Norfolk  air,  and  this  hotel,  this  rest,  the 
tranquillizing  effect  —  the  deep  inhalations,  the  pure  God- 
blest  air  —  the  wonderful  repose  of  the  sea !  When  you  join  me 
here,  how  ive  shall  enjoy  ourselves! 

Yesterday,  while  on  my  afternoon  walk,  I  felt  such  a  gust  of 
joy,  such  a  rapturous  up-springing  of  joy  to  my  very  finger- 
tips, that  I  was  all  amazement  at  its  suddenness.  What  was 
the  cause?  Only  three  miles  of  deserted  sand-beach,  a  wide, 
illimitable  sea,  rolling  from  the  east.  Roll  after  roll  of  white- 
topped  surge  sounding  on  the  shore,  deep,  solemn,  continuous, 
as  driven  by  a  breeze,  which  penetrated  into  the  farthest 
recesses  of  the  lungs,  and  made  them  ache  with  fulness,  and 
whipped  the  blood  into  a  glow !  Presently,  I  respond  to  the 
influence ;  I  condescend  to  stoop,  and  whisk  the  round  pebbles 
on  the  glorious  floor  of  sand,  smooth  as  asphalt.  I  burst  out 
into  song.  Fancy !  Years  and  years  ago,  I  think  I  sang.  The 
spirits  were  in  an  ecstasy,  for  the  music  of  the  waves,  and  the 
keen,  salt  wind,  laden  with  scent  of  the  sea,  the  absolute  soli- 
tude, the  immensity  of  my  domain,  caused  me  to  sing  for  joy ! 

I  knew  there  was  something  of  my  real  old  self,  the  lees,  as 
it  were,  in  me  still ;  —  but,  such  is  civilised  man,  he  enters 
a  groove,  and  exit  there  is  none,  until  solitariness  discovers 
the  boy,  lying  hidden  under  a  thick  husk  of  civilised  cus- 
tom !    This  solitude  is  so  glorious,  we  must  try  and  secure  it 


454  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

for  three  months  out  of  each  year.  Yes,  this  is  glorious !  No 
Africa  for  me,  if  I  can  get  such  solitude  in  England ! ! 

There  is  a  fox-terrier  here,  the  duplicate  of  my  old  Randy 
in  Africa,  smooth-haired,  the  white  like  cream,  the  black  on 
him  deep  sable,  simply  beautiful,  a  gentleman  all  over,  under- 
stands every  word,  automatically  obsequious ;  lies  down  with 
a  thump,  rises  with  a  spring,  makes  faces  like  an  actor !  Say 
1  Rats !  '  —  he  wants  to  tear  the  room  to  pieces,  he  is  sure  he 
sees  what  is  only  in  your  own  imagination !  Why,  his  very  tail 
is  eloquent !  I  seem  to  understand  every  inclination  or  perpen- 
dicular of  it!  This  dog  is  the  embodiment  of  alertness  and 
intelligence.  The  pity  of  it  is,  he  is  not  for  sale;  no  money 
would  buy  him.  I  would  give  twenty  pounds  for  him,  I  should 
so  like  you  to  realise  what  a  perfect  dog  can  be ! 

Your  patience  may  make  something  of  our  dog  in  time,  but 
his  nature  is  not  gentle  to  begin  with.  This  dog,  as  I  said,  is  a 
gentleman  —  yet  while  gentle  to  friends,  bold  as  a  lion  to  all 
vermin  —  human  and  other. 

He  attracted  my  attention  three  days  ago,  as  he  was  out- 
side the  hotel-door,  beseeching  to  come  in.  He  saw  me  take 
a  step  as  though  to  go  on  my  way,  his  eyes  became  more  lim- 
pid, he  whined ;  had  he  spoken  English,  I  could  not  have 
understood  him  better ! 

November  15th,  1893.  I  left  Manchester  yesterday  at 
noon,  and  arrived  in  London  at  5  P.  M.,  and  found  a  mild 
kind  of  November  fog  and  damp,  cold  weather  here.  After 
an  anchorite's  dinner,  with  a  bottle  of  Apollinaris,  I  drove  off 
to  the  Smoking-concert  at  the  Lambeth.  The  programme 
consists  of  comic  songs,  ballads,  and  recitations,  as  usual ; 
just  when  the  smoke  was  amounting  to  asphyxiation,  I  was 
asked  to  ■  say  a  few  words.'  I  saw  that  my  audience  was  more 
than  usually  mixed,  very  boyish  young  fellows,  young  girls, 
and  many,  not- very-intellectual-looking,  men  and  women. 
The  subjects  chosen  by  me  were  the  Matabele  War,  and  the 
present  Coal-war  or  Strike.  In  order  to  make  the  Matabele 
War  comprehensible  to  the  majority,  I  had  to  use  the  vernacu- 
lar freely,  and  describe  the  state  of  things  in  South  Africa, 
just  as  I  would  to  a  camp  of  soldiers. 

In  doing  this,  I  made  use  of  the  illustration  of  an  English- 
man, living  in  a  rented  house,  being  interfered  with  in  his 


POLITICS  AND   FRIENDS  455 

domestic  government  by  a  burly  landlord,  who  insisted  on 
coming  into  his  house  at  all  hours  of  the  day,  and  clubbing  his 
servants;  and  who,  on  the  pretence  of  searching  for  his  lost 
dog  and  cat,  in  his  tenant's  house,  marched  away  with  the 
Englishman's  dog  and  other  trifles.  You  who  know  the  Eng- 
lishman, I  went  on,  when  in  his  house,  after  he  has  paid  his 
rent  and  all  just  debts;  you  can  best  tell  what  his  conduct 
would  be !  It  strikes  me,  I  said,  that  the  average  man  would 
undoubtedly  'boot'  the  landlord,  and  land  him  in  the  street 
pretty  quickly.  Well,  just  what  the  Englishman  in  Lambeth 
would  do,  Cecil  Rhodes  did  in  South  Africa  with  Lobengula. 
He  paid  his  rent  regularly,  one  thousand  two  hundred  pounds 
a  year  or  so,  besides  many  hundreds  of  rifles,  and  ammunition 
to  match,  and  other  gifts,  for  the  right  to  manage  Mashona- 
land  as  he  saw  fit.  Xow  in  the  concession  to  Rhodes,  Loben- 
gula had  reserved  no  rights  to  meddle  in  the  territory7.  There- 
fore, when,  under  the  plea  that  his  cattle  had  been  stolen 
by  Rhodes's  servants,  or  subjects,  the  Mashonas,  Lobengula 
marched  into  Rhodes's  territory  and  slaughtered  the  Mashonas 
and  took  the  white  man's  cattle,  besides  creating  a  general 
scare  among  the  outlying  farmers,  and  the  isolated  miners,  — 
Jameson,  who  was  acting  as  Rhodes's  steward,  sent  the  sub- 
agent  Lendy  upon  the  tracks  of  the  high-handed  Matabele,  — 
hence  the  war. 

This  little  exposition  took  amazingly,  and  there  was  not 
one  dissentient  voice. 

About  the  Coal-war  I  was  equally  frank,  and  said,  in  con- 
clusion, that,  if  I  had  any  money  to  spare  at  the  present  time, 
it  would  not  be  given  to  men  who  were  determined  to  be 
sulky,  and  who,  to  spite  the  coal-owners,  preferred  to  starve, 
but  to  those  poor,  striving  people,  who,  though  they  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  dispute  between  miners  and  coal-owners, 
had  to  bear  the  same  misery  which  the  miners  were  supposed 
to  suffer  from,  and  who  were  obliged  to  pinch  and  economise 
in  food,  in  order  not  to  be  without  coals.  This  drew  a  tre- 
mendous burst  of  cheers,  and  '  Aye,  aye,  that  is  true.' 

Some  very  bad  cigars  and  black  coffee  were  thrust  upon 
me,  and  I  had  to  take  a  cigar,  and  a  teaspoonful  of  the 
coffee ;  neither,  you  may  rest  assured,  did  me  any  good ! 

Yesterday,  I  read  W.  T.  Stead's  last  brochure,   '  2  and  2 


456  HENRY   M.  STANLEY 

make  4.'  —  I  think  it  is  very  good.  Stead  aims  to  be  the 
1  universal  provider  '  for  such  people  as  cannot  so  well  provide 
for  themselves.  He  is  full  of  ideas,  and  I  marvel  how  he 
manages  to  find  time  to  write  as  he  does;  he  has  mortgaged 
his  life  for  the  benefit  of  the  many  sheep  in  London,  who  look 
to  him  as  to  a  shepherd. 

The  '  Daily  Paper,'  of  which  I  have  a  specimen,  may  be 
made  very  useful ;  and  I  hope  he  will  succeed  with  it ;  but 
it  does  not  touch  the  needs  of  the  aristocratic,  learned,  and 
the  upper-middle  class.  Some  day,  I  hope  some  other  type  of 
Stead  will  think  of  them,  and  bring  out  a  high-class  journal 
which  shall  provide  the  best  and  truest  news,  affecting  all 
political,  commercial,  monetary,  manufacturing,  and  indus- 
trial questions  at  home  and  abroad ;  not  forgetting  the  very 
best  books  published,  not  only  in  England,  but  in  Europe,  and 
America,  and  from  which  '  Sport'  of  all  kinds  will  be  banished. 

It  ought  to  be  printed  on  good  paper,  and  decent  type ;  the 
editorials  should  be  short;  the  paper  should  not  be  larger 
than  the  '  Spectator,'  and  the  pages  should  be  cut.  I  quite 
agree  with  Stead  that  it  is  about  time  we  should  get  rid  of 
the  big  sheets,  and  the  paper-cutter.  Wherefore  I  wish  Stead 
all  success,  and  that,  some  day,  one  may  arise  who  will  serve 
the  higher  intelligences  in  the  country,  with  that  same  zeal, 
brightness,  and  inventiveness,  which  Stead  devotes  to  the 
masses.  Now  I  have  faithfully  said  my  say,  and  send  you 
hearty  greetings. 

November  17th,  1893.  I  have  been  to  Bedford,  and  am 
back.  My  inviter  and  entertainer  was  Mr.  A.  Talbot,  a  Master 
of  the  Grammar  School  at  Bedford.  This  school  was  founded 
in  1552,  by  Sir  William  Harper,  a  Lord  Mayor  of  London, 
who  endowed  it  with  land  which,  at  the  time,  brought  only 
one  hundred  and  sixty  pounds  a  year,  but  which  has  since 
grown  to  be  sixteen  thousand  pounds  a  year.  A  new  Grammar 
School  was  completed  three  years  ago,  at  a  cost  of  thirty 
thousand  pounds,  and  is  a  magnificent  structure  of  red  brick 
with  stone  facings.  Its  Hall  is  superb,  between  forty  and  fifty 
feet  high,  and  about  one  hundred  feet,  by  forty  feet.  It  was 
in  this  Hall  I  lectured  to  a  very  crowded  audience. 

The  new  lecture  on  'Emin'  was  received  in  perfect  silence 
until  I  finished,  when  the  applause  was  long  and  most  hearty. 


POLITICS  AND   FRIENDS  457 

But,  to  my  astonishment,  after  all  my  pains  to  prune  it  down, 
it  lasted  one  hour  and  fifty  minutes  in  delivery.  As  I  drew 
near  the  catastrophe,  you  could  have  heard  a  pin  drop  —  and 
I  really  felt  emotional,  and  was  conscious  that  every  soul 
sympathised  with  me  when  I  came  to  the  meeting  of  the 
avenger  of  blood  and  his  victim,  Emin.1 

Strange !  I  read  in  a  telegram  in  the  '  Standard,'  which  came 
to  the  house  before  I  left,  that  Said-bin- Abed,  the  avenger, 
had  been  caught  by  the  Belgian  officers  at  Kirundu  (which 
I  know  well) ,  was  condemned  to  death,  and  shot.  Thus  retri- 
bution overtook  him,  too ! 

Few  in  this  country  know  that  I  am  the  prime  cause  of 
this  advance  of  the  Belgians  against  the  Arab  slave-raiders. 
Indeed,  people  little  realise  how  I  have  practically  destroyed 
this  terrible  slave-trade,  by  cutting  it  down  at  its  very  roots. 
I  have  also  been  as  fatal  to  Tippu-Tib,  Rashid,  his  nephew, 
who  captured  Stanley  Falls  from  Captain  Deane,  Tippu-Tib's 
son,  Muini  Mubala,  and,  lastly,  Said-bin-Abed,  —  the  son  of  my 
old  host,  '  Tanganyika,'  as  Abed-bin-Salim  was  called  —  as  if 
I  had  led  the  avengers  myself,  which  I  was  very  much  solicited 
to  do. 

It  has  all  been  part  of  the  policy  I  chalked  out  for  myself 
in  Africa,  and  urged  repeatedly  on  the  King  of  the  Belgians,  at 
every  interview  I  have  had  with  him,  with  one  paramount 
object  in  view,  —  the  destruction  of  the  slave- traffic. 

At  this  very  time,  we  have  a  great  scheme  which  must  not 
be  disclosed,  no !  not  even  to  you,  yet !  but  which  you  may 
rest  assured  is  for  the  ultimate  benefit  of  that  dark  humanity 
in  the  Lualaba  region. 

Of  course,  military  men,  especially  continentals,  are  rather 
more  severe  than  I  should  have  been ;  for,  if  I  had  caught 
Said-bin-Abed,  I  should  have  sent  him  to  Belgium,  even 
though  he  murdered  Emin,  or  had  murdered  a  friend.  But 
the  suppression  of  the  Arabs  had  to  be ;  and  my  prophecy  to 
Charles  Allen,  of  the  Anti-slavery  cause,  that  I  made  to  him  in 
June,  1890,  has  come  to  pass.  I  said  that  'in  the  next  five 
years,  I  should  have  done  more  for  the  Anti-slavery  cause 
than  all  the  Anti-slavery  Societies  in  Europe  could  have 
done,'  and  it  is  done,  in  the  complete  conquest  of  those 

1  See  page  375. 


458  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

receivers  and  raiders,  who  have  been  so  often  mentioned  in 
my  lectures! 

The  king  did  not  wish  to  proceed  to  extremes,  but  I  drove 
home  every  argument  I  could  think  of,  each  time  I  met  him, 
or  wrote,  to  prove  that  it  was  essential.  'Yet,'  I  said,  'at  the 
first  sign  of  submission,  remember  mercy ;  but  exercise  it  only 
when  they  have  laid  down  their  arms.'  When  the  Belgians 
have  reached  Tanganyika  Lake,  and  either  drive  the  surviving 
Arabs  across  the  lake,  or  into  unconditional  submission,  the 
work  may  be  considered  over.  The  death  of  so  many  of  my 
officers  and  men  will  then  have  been  amply  avenged ;  and  an 
era  of  peace  for  the  poor,  persecuted  natives  will  begin. 

Mr.  Phillpots,  the  Headmaster,  I  forgot  to  say,  introduced 
me  very  nicely  indeed  by  touching  on  the  six  journeys  I  have 
made  to  Africa,  leaving  me  to  speak  upon  the  seventh.  Aiter 
the  lecture,  Air.  Phillpots,  and  all  the  Masters,  supped  at  Mr. 
Talbot's,  and  I  was  in  such  a  vein,  that  I  kept  them  all  up 
until  it  was  a  little  after  I  A.  M.  I  was  horrified !  and,  soon 
after  the  departure  of  the  guests,  I  jumped  into  bed,  and  was 
fast  asleep  within  a  few  minutes. 

I  am  at  the  Second  Volume  of  Lowell,  and  time  flies  by  so 
rapidly  that  I  will  not  be  able  to  read  Lugard's  book  for  a 
few  days  yet. 

The  First  Volume  of  Lowell's  Letters  gives  us  a  pretty  clear 
idea  of  the  man.  I  see  in  him  the  type  of  a  literary  character, 
whose  nature  I  have  often  been  made  acquainted  with  in  the 
past,  though  not  in  quite  so  cultured  a  form  as  in  Lowell. 

But,  with  all  his  culture,  learning,  and  poetry,  and  though 
he  is  so  kind-hearted,  loving,  sympathetic,  ready  to  oblige, 
he  is  what  I  should  call  in  England,  'provincial,'  in  every 
feeling.  Though  I  never  saw  Lowell  face  to  face,  I  feel  as  if 
I  could  make  a  presentment  of  every  characteristic  lineament, 
his  walk,  gesture,  bearing,  the  smile  on  his  face,  the  genial 
bluish-grey  eye,  even  to  his  inches. 

These  Letters,  however,  only  reveal  the  generous  temper, 
humour,  moods,  and  his  fond  weaknesses.  We  should  know 
more  about  his  inward  thoughts,  his  best  views  of  men,  and 
matters  political,  literary,  social,  etc.,  etc.,  to  get  a  complete 
knowledge  of  him.  These  letters  only  refer  to  Lowell  and  his 
immediate  acquaintances,  and  there  are  very  few  things  in 


POLITICS  AND   FRIENDS  459 

them  that  a  reader  would  care  to  hear  twice.  I  could  scarcely 
point  to  a  dozen  sentences,  all  told,  that  compel  a  pause. 

How  different  this  is  from  what  one  could  show  in  Ruskin, 
the  prose  poet  of  England,  or  in  Carlyle;  or  in  Boswell's 
Johnson,  or  in  De  Quincey,  even !  Yet,  I  admit,  it  is  unfair  to 
judge  Lowell  by  his  Letters  only,  and  that  we  should  exam- 
ine his  prose  and  poetry  before  deciding.  Twice,  only,  was 
I  thrilled,  just  a  little,  and  then  from  sympathy  with  the 
bereaved  husband  and  father. 

Had  Lowell  kept  a  journal  like  Sir  Walter  Scott,  I  feel  the 
world  would  have  had  something  worth  reading.  Sometimes  I 
appear  to  look,  as  through  a  window,  into  the  heart  of  the 
writer  and  his  correspondent.  There  is  something  too  fre- 
quent, also,  in  the  phrase,  'I  do  not  care  what  you  think  of  my 
books,  but  I  want  you  to  like  me!'  I  do  not  wish  to  pursue  this 
theme,  for  fear  you  will  get  the  impression  that  I  do  not  like 
Lowell;  but  I  do  heartily  like  him;  and,  again,  I  think  his 
journal  would  have  been  infinitely  better.1 

November  20th,  1893.  This  year  has  been  fatal  to  my 
friends :  Mackinnon,  Parke,  and  now  my  best  friend,  Alexan- 
der Low  Bruce.2  He  was  one  of  the  staunchest,  wisest,  trust- 
iest men  I  ever  knew.  This  England  has  some  other  men  as 
worthy,  as  sensible,  as  good,  as  he,  but  it  is  not  likely  it  will 
be  my  good  fortune  to  meet  again  a  man  of  this  kind  to 
whom  I  could  expose  all  that  is  in  my  breast  with  full  reliance 
on  his  sympathy  and  his  honour.  I  always  felt  that  Bruce 
was  like  a  dear  brother  to  me. 

November  29th.  This  is  the  severest  blow  I  have  yet  re- 
ceived. Bruce  was  more  of  my  own  age  than  either  Mackin- 
non, or  Parke,  and  it  is  perhaps  owing  in  a  measure  to  that 
fact,  that  his  views  of  men  and  affairs  were  more  congenial, 
or  more  in  harmony  with  my  own. 

Mackinnon  belonged  to  an  older  generation,  and  was  the 
centre  of  many  interests  in  which  I  had  no  concern.  Parke 
again  was  of  a  younger  generation,  and  with  all  his  sweet, 
simple  nature  I  found  it  difficult  to  maintain  that  level  of 
ideas  which  belonged  to  his  age.  But,  with  Bruce,  it  was  wholly 

1  A  further  reference  to  Lowell  is  given  in  the  letter  dated  November  27, 1893.  — D.  S. 

2  A.  L.  Bruce  married  Livingstone's  daughter  Agnes,  who  survives  him.  The  Living- 
stone family  were  always  close  and  greatly-valued  friends  of  Stanley.  —  D.  S. 


460  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

different.  His  judgement  was  formed,  and  he  was  in  the  free 
exercise  of  his  developed  faculties.  He  was  originally  of  a 
stronger  fibre  than  either  Mackinnon  or  Parke,  i.  e.,  from 
the  common-sense  point  of  view.  He  might  not  have  the  bold, 
business  audacity  of  Mackinnon,  nor  his  keen  foresight  for 
investments,  but  his  level-headedness  was  more  marked.  One 
felt  that  Bruce's  judgement  could  be  trusted,  not  only  in 
business  matters,  but  in  every  concern  included  in  prac- 
tical life. 

He  was  not  a  literary  man,  but  truly  imperial,  and  highly 
intelligent,  endowed  with  such  large  sympathies,  that  nothing 
appertaining  to  British  interests  was  too  great  or  too  small 
for  him.  In  politics,  he  was  simply  indefatigable  in  behalf 
of  the  Union.  Formerly  a  Liberal  like  myself,  Gladstone's 
sudden  '  volte-face1  was  too  much  for  him,  which  proves  him 
to  be  more  attached  to  principles  than  to  whims. 

The  amount  of  correspondence  entailed  on  him  by  the  influ- 
ence he  exercised  in  South  Scotland  was  something  extraor- 
dinary; his  bill  for  postage  must  have  been  unusual.  His 
industry  was  incredible.  His  labours  did  not  fray  that  kindly 
temper  of  his  in  the  least,  nor  diminish  the  hearty,  friendly 
glance  of  his  eyes.  I  know  no  man  living  among  my  acquaint- 
ances who  took  life  with  such  a  delightful  sense  of  enjoy- 
ment, and  appeared  so  uniformly  contented.  Considering  his 
remarkably  penetrative  discernment  of  character,  this  was 
the  more  to  be  wondered  at.  I  really  envied  him  for  this.  He 
could  look  into  the  face  of  a  declared  opponent,  and,  though 
I  watched,  I  could  not  detect  the  slightest  wavering  of  that 
honest,  clear,  straight  look  of  kindness  which  was  a  recog- 
nised characteristic  of  Bruce.  I  could  not  do  it :  when  I  love, 
I  love ;  and  when  I  disagree,  I  cannot  hide  it ! 

I  should  say,  though  I  do  not  pretend  to  that  intimate 
knowledge  of  his  boyhood  that  a  relative  or  school-mate 
might  have,  his  life  must  have  been  a  happy  one.  It  is  nearly 
twenty  years  since  I  first  knew  him,  and,  during  that  time, 
there  has  been  a  steady  growth  of  affection  and  esteem  for 
him.  I  could  have  been  contented  on  a  desert  island  with 
Bruce,  because  contact  with  him  made  one  feel  stronger  and 
nobler.  Well,  my  dear,  knowing  and  loving  Bruce  as  you 
know  I  did,  you  can  appreciate  my  present  feelings. 


POLITICS  AND  FRIENDS  461 

These  repeated  blows  make  me  less  and  less  regardful  of 
worldliness  in  every  form.  Indeed,  I  have  done  with  the  world, 
though  there  are  a  number  of  little  things  that  I  should  do 
before  quite  surrendering  myself  to  the  inevitable.  I  wonder, 
indeed,  that  I  am  still  here,  —  I,  who,  during  thirty-five 
years,  have  been  subjected  to  the  evils  of  almost  every  climate, 
racked  by  over  three  hundred  fevers,  dosed  with  an  incon- 
ceivable quantity  of  medicine,  shaken  through  every  nerve 
by  awful  experiences,  yet  here  I  am !  and  Bruce,  and  Parke, 
and  Mackinnon,  are  gone;  I  write  this  to-day  as  sound,  ap- 
parently, as  when  I  started  on  my  wanderings;  but  then  a 
week  hence,  where  shall  I  be? 

November  27th,  1893. 

My  dear  D.,  —  I  finished  Volume  Two  of  Lowell's  Letters 
yesterday.  My  former  opinion  needs  slight  modification,  or 
rather  expansion ;  it  was  incomplete,  as  any  opinion  of  an 
unfinished  career  must  be. 

But,  now  that  the  career  is  ended,  and  the  Life  is  closed,  I 
am  at  liberty  to  amplify  what  I  would  willingly  have  said,  at 
once,  of  any  promising  man  who  had  continued  in  consistent 
goodness,  that  the  expectations  formed  have  been  fulfilled. 
Soon  after  beginning  the  Second  Volume  the  attention  is 
not  so  often  arrested  by  signs  of  youthful  vanity.  He  has  no 
sooner  passed  middle  age,  than  one's  love  for  the  writer  grows 
more  and  more  complete.  He  is  a  'litterateur'  above  all  things, 
to  the  last;  but  you  also  observe  his  growth  from  letter  to 
letter  into  a  noble-hearted,  affectionate,  upright  old  man. 

He  is  not  free,  to  the  closing  letter,  of  the  Lowellian  imper- 
fections; but  these  do  not  detract  from  the  esteem  which  I 
find  to  be  increasing  for  him;  like  the  weaknesses  of  some 
of  one's  personal  friends,  I  rather  like  Lowell  the  better  for 
them,  for  they  lighten  one's  mood  of  severe  respect  towards 
him.  After  dipping  into  one  or  two  specimens  of  poetry  which 
the  book  contains,  his  letters  do  not  reveal  him  wholly,  in  my 
opinion.  There  is  one  to  'Phoebe'  which  deeply  moved  me, 
and  I  feel  convinced  there  must  be  gems  of  thought  among  his 
poetical  productions.  As  I  closed  the  books,  Lowell's  image, 
though  I  never  saw  him,  came  vividly  before  me  as  he  sat 
in  Elmwood  library,  listening  to  the  leafy  swirl  without,  the 


462  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

strange  sounds  made  by  winds  in  his  ample  chimney,  and  the 
shrill  calls,  'wee-wee,'  of  the  mice  behind  the  white  wainscot- 

May  his  covering  of  earth  lie  lightly,  and  his  soul  be  in 
perfect  communion  with  his  loved  dead ! 

December  I2th,  1893.  Sir  Charles  and  Lady,  Euan  Smith 
and  wife,  Mr.  E.  L.  Berkley,  of  Zanzibar,  and  Mr.  H.  Bab- 
ington  Smith  lunched  with  us. 

Sir  Charles  told  me  that  he  once  said  to  Emin  Pasha,  '  Well, 
Pasha,  the  whole  of  Europe  is  expecting  you  !  There  are  lots 
of  invitations  awaiting  your  convenience!'  Emin  replied, 
4  Ah !  I  can't  go  yet.  I  must  kill  some  more  Arabs.'  Poor  old 
fellow!  he  did  kill  a  few,  and  then  came  a  time  when  the 
Arabs  killed  him ! 

January  1st,  1894.  Sir  Samuel  White  Baker  died  yesterday. 
Some  years  ago  I  had  the  photographs  of  the  four  greatest 
travellers  of  the  period,  Livingstone,  Burton,  Speke,  and 
Baker,  enlarged,  and  framed  them  all  together.  They  are  all 
dead  now,  Baker  being  the  last  to  go ! 

Each  was  grand  in  his  own  way :  Livingstone,  as  a  mission- 
ary explorer,  and  the  first  of  the  four  to  begin  the  work  of 
making  known  the  unexplored  heart  of  Africa,  and  he  was 
deservedly  the  most  famous ;  Burton,  as  a  restless  wanderer  in 
foreign  lands,  and  a  remarkable  and  indefatigable  writer; 
Speke,  the  hunter-explorer,  with  strong  geographical  instincts, 
was  second  to  Livingstone  for  his  explorations ;  Baker,  as  a 
hunter,  carried  his  hunting  into  unknown  parts,  and  dis- 
tinguished himself  by  his  discovery  of  the  Albert  Nyanza, 
and  by  his  adventures. 

The  Prince  of  Wales  became  interested  in  him,  and  through 
the  influence  of  the  Prince,  he  was  appointed  Egyptian  pro- 
consul of  the  Upper  Nile  regions  at  a  munificent  salary. 
Baker  was  not  an  explorer  in  the  sense  that  Livingstone  and 
Speke  were,  and,  consequently,  beyond  the  discovery  of  the 
existence  of  the  Albert  Lake,  he  did  little  to  make  the  Upper 
Nile  region  known.  The  record  of  his  five  years'  rather  vio- 
lent administration  of  Equatoria  is  given  in  his  book  called 
1  Ismailia' ;  and  it  will  be  seen  there  that  he  left  the  region 
surrounding  Ismailia  almost  as  unknown,  after  his  term  of 


POLITICS  AND   FRIENDS  463 

service  was  over,  as  when  he  reached  it  to  begin  his  duties  as 
Administrator. 

Apart  from  this,  however,  he  was  a  fine  fellow  —  physically 
strong,  masterful,  and  sensible;  as  a  brave  hunter,  he  was  un- 
matched ;  as  a  writer  of  travels,  he  was  a  great  success.  He  was 
a  typical  Conservative  Englishman  ;  he  knew  by  intuition  what 
Englishmen  like  to  hear  of  their  countrymen's  doings,  which, 
added  to  his  artistic  style  of  writing,  charmed  his  readers. 

Another  thing  to  his  credit,  be  it  said  by  me,  who  know 
whereof  I  am  speaking,  he  was  too  great  in  mind,  and  too 
dignified  in  character,  to  belong  to  any  geographical  clique, 
and  join  in  the  partisan  warfare  which  raged  in  Savile  Row 
between  1860-80.  He  rather  took  the  opposite  way,  and  did 
not  disdain  to  speak  a  good  word  for  any  explorer  who  hap- 
pened to  be  an  object  of  attack  at  the  time. 

November  28th.  The  death  of  another  friend  is  to-day 
announced.  This  time  it  is  Charles  Edward  Ingham,  ex- 
guardsman  and  missionary,  whom  I  employed,  in  1887,  for  my 
transport  service.  He  is  reported  as  having  been  killed  by  an 
elephant.  It  is  not  long  ago  I  recorded  in  these  pages  the 
death  of  his  good  and  beautiful  wife.  This  devoted  couple 
were  wonderful  for  their  piety,  and  their  devotion  to  the 
negroes  of  the  Congo. 

Early  in  1894,  Stanley  caught  cold,  and  had  a  succession  of  ma- 
larial attacks.  Change  of  air  was  advised,  and  he  went  to  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  where  I  joined  him  a  few  days  later.  I  here  give  extracts  from 
his  letter. 

Shaxklin,  March  15th,  1894.  I  came  here  from  Fresh- 
water, because  that  place  did  not  agree  with  me,  and  because 
the  accommodation  provided  was  wretched,  and  the  rooms 
ill-ventilated.  I  wonder  how  many  people  died  in  the  room  I 
occupied  ?  I  fancied  their  spirits  sailing  about  from  corner  to 
corner,  trying  to  get  out  into  the  air,  and  at  night  settling 
around  my  head,  disturbing  my  sleep  in  consequence !  I  have 
been  reading  Yasari's  'Machiavelli,'  and,  I  am  thankful  to  say, 
he  has  removed  the  disagreeable  impression  I  had  conceived 
of  his  principles  from  a  book  I  read  about  him  twenty-five 
years  ago ;  or,  perhaps  my  more  mature  age  has  enabled  me  to 
understand  him  better. 

Vasari  gives  one  chapter  of  comments,  from  various  writers, 


464  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

on  him;  but  the  one  that  comes  nearest  the  right  judgement 
on  him  is  Bacon,  who  said  that  gratitude  was  due  to  him,  and 
to  those  like  him,  who  study  that  which  men  do,  instead  of 
that  which  they  ought  to  do.  In  fact,  Machiavelli  has  writ- 
ten about  contemporaneous  Italy  just  as  we  speak  privately, 
but  dare  not  talk  openly,  of  our  political  world. 

When  we  described  Gladstone,  before  his  retirement,  we 
called  him  by  the  euphonious  term  of  the  'old  Parliamentary 
hand.'  What  did  we  mean  by  that,  we  who  are  his  opponents  ? 
We  meant  it  in  this  strictly  Machiavellian  sense.  This  would 
once  have  shocked  me,  just  as  many  of  the  Florentine's  crit- 
ics, especially  Frederick  the  Great,  affected  to  be ;  yet  Freder- 
ick, and  Napoleon,  and  almost  every  eminent  English  politi- 
cian, except  Balfour,  were,  and  are,  Machiavellian,  and  are 
bound  to  be ! 

The  following  passage  is  taken  from  the  Journal :  — 

October  29th,  1894.  D.  and  I  left  London  for  Dolaucothy, 
Llanwrda,  S.  Wales,  to  spend  three  days  with  Sir  James  and 
Lady  Hills- Johnes.1  Lord  Roberts  and  his  daughter  Eileen 
were  there.  Sir  James  is  a  delightful  host,  a  most  kind, 
straightfonvard  soldier.  He  is  a  V.  C.,  because  of  dashing 
exploits  in  India.   He  has  been  Governor  of  Cabui. 

Lord  Roberts,  Sir  James,  and  myself  were  photographed 
by  Lady  Hills-Johnes.  When  the  photograph  came  out,  it  was 
seen  that  we  were  all  three  of  the  same  height,  with  a  sort  of 
brother-like  resemblance. 

Sir  James  is  a  very  winning  character,  for  he  takes  one's 
good-will  and  affection  by  storm.  His  heart  is  white  and  clean. 
As  for  Lady  Hills-Johnes,  her  rare  gifts  of  intellect  and  sym- 
pathy penetrate  the  heart,  like  welcome  warmth. 

I  have  been  more  talkative  in  this  house  than  I  have  been 
in  any  house  I  can  remember,  except  Newstead  Abbey,  where 
one  was  stimulated  by  that  exceptional,  most  loveable  being, 
Mrs.  Webb. 

I  happened  to  be  full  of  speech,  and  the  Hills-Johnes  had 
the  gift  of  knowing  how  to  make  me  talk.  So,  what  with  full 
freedom  of  speech,  friendly  faces,  and  genuine  sympathy,  I 

1  Lieutenant-general  Sir  James  Hills-Johnes,  G.  C.  B.,  V.  C,  who  was  dangerously 
wounded  in  the  Indian  Mutiny,  where  he  won  the  V.  C,  for  his  extraordinary  valour. 
—  D.  S. 


POLITICS  AND  FRIENDS  465 

was  very  happy,  and  I  fear  I  shall  leave  here  with  a  reputation 
for  loquacity.  When  I  leave,  I  shall  cork  up  again,  and  be  my 
reserved  self ! 

November  7th,  Wednesday.  Went  to  the  Queen's  Hall  to 
hear  Lord  Salisbury  speak.  Again  I  was  struck  by  the  want 
of  the  proper  spirit  which  makes  the  orator.  His  appearance, 
especially  his  head,  large  brow,  and  sonorous  voice,  his  diction, 
all  befit  the  orator ;  but  the  kindling  animation,  that  fire  which 
warms  an  audience,  is  absent.  The  listener  must  needs  follow 
a  sage  like  the  Marquis,  with  interest ;  but  what  an  event  it 
would  be  in  the  memory  of  those  who  haunt  political  gather- 
ings of  this  kind,  if,  suddenly,  he  dropped  his  apparent  list- 
lessness,  and  were  to  speak  like  a  man  of  genuine  feeling,  to 
feeling  men !  It  would  be  a  sight  to  see  the  effect  on  the  warm- 
hearted audience! 

Christmas,  1894,  we  spent  on  the  Riviera,  and  here  Stanley 
wrote  part  of  his  Autobiography,  which  he  had  commenced  the  year 
before. 

Monte  Carlo.  Have  written  a  few  pages  of  my  Auto- 
biography, but  these  spasmodic  touches  are  naturally  detri- 
mental to  style. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
IN   PARLIAMENT 

IN  June,  1895,  Parliament  was  dissolved,  and  active  electioneering 
commenced.  On  Monday,  July  15,  1895,  Stanley  was  elected 
M.  P.  for  North  Lambeth,  with  a  majority  of  four  hundred  and 
five.  Stanley  had  held  many  meetings,  and  I  had  worked  very  hard, 
so  that  when  it  came  to  polling-day,  we  were  both  extremely  tired. 
At  this  contest,  the  Radical  Press  distinguished  itself  by  virulent 
and  abusive  attacks.  One  leading  Liberal  journal,  on  the  eve  of  the 
Election,  wrote  that  'Mr.  Stanley's  course  through  Africa  had  been 
like  that  of  a  red-hot  poker  drawn  across  a  blanket,'  and  that  'he 
nightly  slept  on  a  pillow  steeped  in  blood ! ! '  I  felt  too  nervousand 
unstrung  to  be  present  at  the  counting  of  votes.  I  therefore  decided 
to  remain  at  the  little  Club  in  the  York  Road,  Lambeth,  there  to 
await  Stanley.  I  crept  upstairs,  to  a  dark  and  empty  attic,  for  I  knew 
that  between  eleven  and  twelve  o'clock  I  should  see  the  signal :  a  red 
flash  against  the  night  sky,  if  we  had  won ;  a  blue  light,  if  our  oppo- 
nent, the  Radical  candidate,  were  returned. 

As  I  knelt  by  the  low  window,  looking  out  on  the  confused  mass 
of  roofs  and  chimneys,  hardly  distinguishable  against  the  dark  sky, 
I  thought  passionately  of  how  I  had  worked  and  striven  for  this  day ; 
that  because  Stanley  had  consented  to  stand  again,  I  had  vowed  (if 
it  were  possible,  by  personal  effort,  to  help  towards  it)  that  he  should 
be  returned !  I  felt  how  great  he  was,  and  I  prayed  that  he  might 
not  be  defeated,  and  that  I  might  thereby  keep  him  from  returning 
to  Africa. 

The  hours  passed  slowly.  The  roar  of  London,  as  of  a  great  Joom, 
sounded  in  my  ears,  with  the  pounding  of  my  arteries ;  and  still  my 
eyes  were  steadily  fixed  westward,  where,  about  a  half  a  mile  away, 
the  votes  were  being  counted ;  and  I  kept  thinking  of  Stanley.  Sud- 
denly, the  sky  flushed  pink  over  the  roofs ;  to  the  west,  a  rosy  fog 
seemed  gently  to  rise,  and  creep  over  the  sky ;  and^  soon,  a  distant, 
tumultuous  roar  came  rolling  like  an  incoming  tide,  and  I  went 
down  to  meet  my  Stanley ! 

When  I  reached  the  crudely-lighted  Club-room,  and  stood  by  the 
door,  the  shout  of  multitudes  was  overwhelming.  Men,  in  black 
masses,  were  surging  up  the  street.  They  poured  in,  Stanley  in  their 
midst,  looking  white  and  very  stern.  He  was  seized,  and  swung  up 
like  a  feather,  on  men's  shoulders,  and  carried  to  a  table  at  the  fur- 
ther end  of  the  Hall.  As  he  passed  me,  I  caught  his  hand ;  it  was  so 
cold,  it  seemed  to  freeze  mine!  He  was  called  upon  for  a.  speech. 
1  Speak  to  us,  Stanley,'  was  shouted.  Stanley  merely  drew  himself  up, 


.-:■'■: 

I* 


IN  PARLIAMENT-  467 

and,  with  a  steady  look,  very  characteristic,  said  quietly,  '  Gentle- 
men, I  thank  you,  and  now,  good-night! '  In  a  few  minutes,  he  and 
I  were  stepping  into  a  hansom  cab  in  a  back  street.  During  the  drive 
we  did  not  speak.  In  the  hall  of  our  home,  I  thought  he  would  say 
something  about  the  victory,  but  he  only  smiled  at  me,  and  said,  '  I 
think  we  both  need  rest;  and  now  for  a  pipe.'  We  both,  as  Stanley 
said,  needed  rest;  I  was  tired  out,  and  left  London  for  the  Engadjne, 
whilst  Stanley  remained  for  the  Opening  of  Parliament.  He  promised 
to  keep  a  Journal  of  his  first  impressions  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
and  sent  the  pages  to  me  day  by  day.  I  here  give  extracts  from  that 
'Journal  of  one  week  in  the  House  of  Commons.' 

August  1 2th,  1895.  The  architect  of  the  House  must  have 
been  very7  deficient  in  sense  of  proportion,  it  seems  to  me.  I 
think,  of  all  the  Parliament  Houses  I  ever  saw,  I  am  obliged  to 
confess  that  any  of  the  State  Houses  in  America  would  offer 
superior  accommodation  to  the  members.  Where  are  the  desks 
for  the  members,  the  comfortable,  independent  chairs,  the 
conveniences  for  making  notes,  and  keeping  papers?  In  con- 
trast to  what  my  mind  recalls  of  other  Chambers,  this  House 
is  singularly  unfurnished.  Money  has  been  lavished  on  walls 
and  carved  galleries,  but  nothing  has  been  spent  on  con- 
veniences. Then,  again,  the  arrangements :  the  two  Parties, 
opposed  in  feeling  and  principle,  have  here  to  confront  one 
another,  and  present  their  sides  to  the  Speaker,  instead  of 
their  faces.  Surely  we  ought  to  find  something  more  congenial 
to  look  at  than  sour-looking  opponents ! 

At  ten  minutes  to  two,  I  was  back  in  the  House.  It  was  now 
crowded,  every  seat  was  occupied,  Cross-benches,  and  under 
the  Gallery,  as  well  as  both  doorways.  Then  the  House  hushed, 
and  in  came  an  officer  from  the  Lords,  in  old-fashioned  cos- 
tume of  black,  and  a  wig,  gingerly  earning  a  gilded  rod.  He 
walked  trippingly  along  the  floor  of  the  House  to  our  table, 
at  which  sat  three  old-fashioned  and  be-gowned  officers,  and 
delivered  a  message  in  a  not  very  clear  voice.  Whereupon  the 
centre  officer  stood  up,  and  advanced  from  behind  the  table 
towards  him,  the  one  with  the  gilded  rod  tripping  mincingly 
backward.  When  they  were  both  near  the  door,  G.  J.  Goschen 
and  a  few  other  leaders  strode  after  him ;  then,  from  either  side 
of  the  House,  members  poured  and  formed  procession,  until 
there  were  probably  three  hundred  in  it. 

We  marched  through  the  passage  in  twos  and  threes,  pass- 


468  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

ing  two  great  Halls  crowded  with  visitors,  many  of  whom  were 
ladies.  We  halted  at  the  Bar  of  the  Lords.  Then  I  knew  we 
were  in  the  'gilded  chamber,'  which  has  been  so  often  spoken 
about  lately.  This  was  my  first  view  of  it,  and  I  looked  about 
me  curiously.  To  call  it  a  'gilded  chamber'  is  a  simple  exag- 
geration. There  was  not  enough  gilding  for  it  to  merit  that 
term.  It  was  nearly  empty,  there  being  about  sixteen  Peers 
in  their  seats.  Four  scarlet-gowned,  cock-hatted  gentlemen 
sat  in  front  of  the  Throne,  and  some  twenty  ladies  occupied 
the  settees  on  the  right. 

As  soon  as  our  '  Commons'  officer,  whom  we  had  followed, 
had  entered,  the  clerk  of  the  Lords,  standing  between  him 
and  the  scarlet-gowned  four,  commenced  reading  from  an 
elaborately-engraved  parchment.  He  was  well  into  his  sub- 
ject before  I  could  get  near  enough  to  the  Bar  to  hear  his 
voice.  I  could  not  distinguish  any  word  he  said,  but  when  he 
concluded,  the  Lord  Chancellor  —  I  suppose  it  was  he  — 
read  in  a  much  clearer  voice  some  message  to  the  effect  that 
we  could  proceed  to  elect  a  Speaker.  When  he  concluded,  he 
and  his  three  friends  took  off  their  hats ;  at  which  we  retired, 
betaking  ourselves  to  our  own  House  through  the  long  pas- 
sage by  which  we  had  left. 

I  met  many  friends,  but  I  have  not  been  able  to  exchange 
twelve  sensible  words  with  any  of  them  except  Mr.  Charles 
Darling,  Q.  C,  M.  P.,1  and  Colonel  Denny,  M.  P.  All  the  rest 
appear  to  be  in  a  perfect  fever.  They  no  sooner  grasp  your 
hand  and  pour  out  congratulations  than  they  turn  away  to 
another  person,  and,  during  their  glib  greetings,  keep  looking 
away  to  someone  else. 

I  searched  the  faces  on  the  Radical  benches  to  see  if  I 
recognised  John  Burns  and  James  J.  O' Kelly.  I  would  not  be 
sure  of  O' Kelly,  because  he  is  so  different  from  the  slim  young 
man  I  knew  in  Madrid  in  1873  —  twenty-three  years  ago. 

It  is  too  early  yet  to  say  whether  I  shall  like  the  House 
or  not.  If  there  is  much  behaviour  like  that  of  Dr.  Tanner  in 
it,  I  shall  not ;  but  it  is  ominous  to  me  that  the  man  can  be 
permitted  to  behave  so  badly. 

William  Allen,  the  Northumbrian,  was  a  prominent  figure 
among  the  Radicals,  with  his  American  felt  hat,  and  loud  grey 

1  Now  Sir  Charles  Darling,  Judge  in  the  King's  Bench  Division. 


IN   PARLIAMENT  469 

suit.  He  is  certainly  a  massive  fellow ;  and  I  am  half-inclined 
to  think  that  he  is  rather  vain,  under  all  that  Radical  affecta- 
tion of  unkemptness.  If  true,  it  is  a  pity;  for  he  must  have  a 
good  heart,  and  plenty  of  good  sense. 

I  have  written  this  out  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  while 
all  is  fresh  in  my  mind.  Mayhap  I  will  send  you  more  of  the 
hasty  diary,  the  day  after  to-morrow. 

Second  day,  14th  Parliament  of  Her  Majesty's  reign. 

August  13th.  I  walked  down  to  the  House  at  11  A.  M. 
Members  were  just  beginning  to  arrive.  Secured  my  seat,  this 
time  on  an  upper  bench,  behind  our  leaders,  that  I  might 
be  away  from  the  neighbourhood  of  that  ill-mannered  Dr. 
Tanner,  and  not  vis-a-vis  to  the  scowling  Radicals. 

I  strode  through  the  passages  to  the  big  ante-hall,  where  I 
found  the  Members  had  begun  to  gather.  One  came  to  me  with 
level  eyes,  and  was  about  to  indulge  in  an  ejaculation,  when 
I  said,  '  I  almost  think  I  know  you  by  your  look.  You  can't  be 
O' Kelly?'  He  softened,  and  answered  'Yes,'  —  upon  which, 
of  course,  I  expressed  my  surprise  that  this  stout  figure  could 
be  the  slim  young  man  I  knew  in  Madrid,  twenty-three  years 
ago.  At  that  time  he  had  just  been  released  from  a  Cuban 
prison,  and  had  been  sent  to  Spain  by  the  Cuban  authorities. 
Sickles,  the  American  Minister,  obtained  his  release  on  parole. 
Now,  here  he  stood,  transformed  into  an  elderly  legislator !  I 
gently  chaffed  him  that,  knowing  I  had  been  in  London  so 
many  years,  he  had  never  sought  my  acquaintance.  '  Tell  me, 
honestly,'  I  said,  'was  it  not  because  you  had  become  such 
an  important  public  man?'  It  confused  him  a  little,  but 
O'  Kelly  and  I  were  always  pretty  direct  with  each  other. 

Just  near  me  was  the  worthy  Kimber  of  Wandsworth.  I 
turned  to  him,  and  said,  '  Now  come,  have  some  tenderness 
for  a  stranger,  and  tell  me  something  of  someone.  May  we  not 
sit  together  for  this  one  time,  and  let  me  hear  from  you,  who 
is  who?' 

1  By  all  means,  come,'  he  said,  gaily ;  and,  as  it  was  drawing 
near  noon,  we  entered  the  House,  and  we  took  our  seats  near 
old  Sir  John  Mowbray.  I  was  fairly  placed  for  observation, 
and  sufficiently  distant  from  the  Radicals. 

1  Who  is  that  gentleman  opposite  to  me,  next  to  John  Ellis, 
second  in  support  of  Speaker  Gully  yesterday ? ' — 'That  is 


470  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

Farquharson,  of  Aberdeen.  That  light-haired  young  man  is 
Allen,  of  Newcastle.  The  gentleman  on  the  upper  bench  is 
Sir  E.  Gourley,  of  Sunderland;  and  the  one  opposite,  on  the 
other  bench,  is  Herbert  Gladstone.'  But  it  is  unnecessary  to  go 
further,  you  will  understand  his  method.  He  pointed  out  quite 
two-score  of  people,  with  some  distinctive  remark  about  each. 

It  was  two  or  three  minutes  past  twelve.  A  hush  fell  on  the 
House,  the  doors  were  thrown  open,  and  in  walked  Black 
Rod,  Captain  Butler,  straight  to  the  Bar,  but  daintily,  as 
though  he  were  treading  consecrated  ground.  He  delivered  his 
message  to  the  Speaker,  who  sat  bareheaded,  out  of  courtesy 
to  the  stranger.  Black  Rod  having  backed  a  certain  number 
of  paces,  the  Speaker,  William  Court  Gully,  rose,  stepped 
down  to  the  floor,  and  marched  resolutely  forward.  Members 
poured  out  in  greater  number  than  yesterday,  as  though  to 
protect  our  gallant  leader  during  the  perils  he  was  to  en- 
counter with  the  awful  Lords.  I  looked  up  and  down  the  pro- 
cession, and,  really,  I  think  that  not  only  the  Speaker  but 
the  nation  might  have  been  proud  of  us.  We  made  such  a 
show !   Of  course,  the  halls  were  crowded  with  sight-seers. 

By  the  time  the  Speaker  was  at  the  Bar,  Kimber  and  I  had 
got  into  the  Gallery  of  the  Peers'  Chamber,  and  I  now  looked 
down  upon  the  scene.  The  four  big-wigs  in  scarlet  and  cocked 
hats  were  before  the  Throne.  They  looked  so  still  that  they 
reminded  me  of  '  Kintu  and  his  white-headed  Elders.'  '  The 
Peers'  House  was  much  emptier  even  than  yesterday ;  I  counted 
five  Peers  only.  The  Speaker,  backed  by  the  faithful  Com- 
mons, demanded  freedom  of  debate,  free  exercise  of  their 
ancient  privileges,  access  to  Her  Majesty's  presence  on  occa- 
sion, etc.,  and  when  he  had  ended,  the  Lord  Chancellor,  im- 
moveable as  yesterday,  read  out  that  Her  Majesty  graciously 
approved  his  election  as  Speaker,  and  was  pleased  to  grant 
that  her  faithful  Commons  should  enjoy,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

It  was  over !  Back  we  strode  to  our  House,  policemen  bare- 
headed now.  Our  Speaker  was  full  Speaker,  if  you  please, 
and  the  First  Commoner  in  the  realm.  We  reached  our  House, 
the  Speaker  disappeared,  and,  when  we  had  taken  our  seats 
again,  he  presently  burst  upon  the  scene.  We  all  rose  to  our 
feet  bareheaded.  He  was  now  in  full  heavy  wig  and  robes. 
1  See  'The  Legend  of  Kintu  '  in  My  Dark  Companions  (by  Stanley), 


IN   PARLIAMENT  471 

He  had  a  statelier  pace.  Irving  could  not  have  done  it  better 
on  the  Stage. 

He  rose  to  his  chair,  ampler,  nobler,  and  sat  down  heavily ; 
we  all  subsided,  putting  on  our  hats.  Up  rose  the  Speaker,  and 
informed  us  that  he  had  presented  our  petition  to  the  Throne, 
and  had  been  graciously  received,  and  all  the  Commons' 
privileges  had  been  confirmed.  He  took  the  opportunity,  he 
said,  while  on  his  feet,  of  thanking  us  once  more  for  the  honour 
we  had  done  him.  He  had  not  gone  far  with  his  speech  before 
he  said  '  I  graciously,'  and  then  corrected  himself,  one  or  two 
members  near  me  grunting,  '  Humph.'  What  will  not  nervous- 
ness make  unhappy  fellows  say !  He  meant  to  say,  '  I  sincerely  7 

We  were  now  to  prepare  to  take  the  Oath.  He  took  it  first, 
Sir  Reginald  Palgrave  delivering  it  to  him.  He  signed  his 
name  on  the  roll,  after  which  the  book  was  brought  to  the 
table,  on  which  were  five  New  Testaments,  and  five  cards  on 
which  were  these  words  :  — 

1 1 do  solemnly  swear  to  bear  faithful  and  true  alle- 
giance to  Her  Majesty,  Queen  Victoria,  her  heirs  and  successors 
according  to  law.    So  help  me  God.' 

Balfour,  Goschen,  Harcourt,  Fowler,  and  another,  stood  up 
at  the  table,  held  the  book  up,  repeated  the  oath,  kissed  the 
Testament,  and  each  went  to  subscribe  his  name  on  the  roll. 
What  an  Autograph-book,  after  all  have  signed  it ! 

Another  five  Ministers  came,  took  the  Oath,  and  departed; 
another  five,  and  then  the  Privy  Councillors,  and  after  them 
the  ordinary  Members.  And  now  that  stupid  English  habit  of 
rushing  occurred,  just  as  they  do  everywhere,  and  on  every 
occasion,  at  Queen's  levees,  at  railway-stations,  and  steamer- 
gangways.  An  Englishman  is  a  gregarious  animal.  He  must 
rush,  and  crowd,  and  jostle,  looking  as  stupidly-amiable  as 
he  can,  but,  nevertheless,  very  much  bent  on  getting  some- 
where, along  with  the  crowd.  The  table  could  not  be  seen  for 
the  fifty  or  more  who  formed  a  solid  mass.  I.  waited  until 
1. 15  P.M.  I  then  went;  the  mass  was  much  reduced,  but  I 
was  driven  to  the  table  with  force.  I  looked  behind.  It  was 
O' Kelly.  'Keep  on,'  he  said;  'I  follow  the  leader.'  'All  right, 
I  will  pass  the  Testament  to  you  next.'  Two  begged  for  it  — 
Colonel  Saunderson  was  one  —  but  I  was  firm.  'Very  sorry, 
Colonel,  I  have  promised." 


472  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

I  repeated  the  Oath,  kissed  the  Testament,  and  handed  the 
book  to  O' Kelly,  hoping  he  will  be  honest  with  his  Oath,  and 
1  bear  faithful  and  true  allegiance,'  etc. ! 

I  signed  my  name  in  the  book, —  'Henry  M.  Stanley, 
North  Lambeth,' — was  introduced  to  Mr.  Speaker,  who 
knows  how  to  smile,  and  nod,  and  shake  hands  graciously,  — 
passed  through,  and  met  the  doorkeeper,  who  said,  '  Mr. 
Stanley,  I  presume?  '  '  Yes.'  'Ah,  I  thought  I  recognised  you. 
I  heard  you  lecture  once  at  Kensington,'  etc.,  etc. 

I  was  shown  the  way,  got  out  into  the  street,  took  a  hansom, 
and  drove  to  Mr.  (now,  Sir  Henry)  Lucy's,  at  Ashley  Gardens, 
for  lunch,  where  we  had  an  extremely  pleasant  party.  Parted 
at  3.30,  and  I  travelled  home,  where  I  looked  over  a  pile  of 
Blue-books,  and  wrote  this  long  entry7  of  the  second  day  of 
Parliamentary  life ! 

The  15th  inst.  was  the  beginning  of  work.  I  was  at  Prayers 
for  the  first  time.  Canon  Farrar  officiated.  There  was  a 
short  exhortation,  when  we  turned  our  faces  to  the  wall  and 
repeated  the  Lord's  Prayer  after  him;  after  which,  we  had 
three  short  prayers,  and  the  'Grace,'  and  it  was  over.  I 
noticed  the  Members  joined  heartily  on  our  side  in  the  Lord's 
Prayer.  It  is  at  such  times  that  Englishmen  appear  best  to 
me.  They  yield  themselves  unreservedly  to  the  customs  of 
their  forefathers,  in  utter  defiance  of  the  blatant  atheism  of 
the  age.  The  ceremony  was  sweetly  simple,  yet  it  moved  me ; 
and,  in  my  heart,  I  honoured  every  Member  the  more  for  it. 
I  thought  of  Solomon's  beautiful  Prayer  for  Understanding, 
and  the  object  of  these  supplications  was  for  assistance  in  the 
right  doing  of  the  legislative  work  before  the  House. 

The  Speaker  has  grown  sensibly,  in  my  estimation,  since 
the  first  day  when  he  sat  in  the  ranks,  on  the  Radical  benches. 
Then  he  appeared  a  clever,  legal-looking  member,  of  somewhat 
high  colour,  a  veritable  Tleydell'  (Scott's  'Guy  Mannering '). 
Though  I  have  seen  him  in  his  process  of  transformation  into 
the  First  Commoner,  I  was  not  quite  prepared  for  this  in- 
creased respect.  I  suppose  the  form  and  ceremony  attending 
his  coming  and  going,  the  ready  obedience  and  respect  of 
every  Member  and  official,  have  somewhat  to  do  with  my  con- 
version.   I  feel  as  if  we  were  going  to  be  proud  of  him. 

The  seconder  of  the  Address  was  our  friend  Robertson,  of 


IN   PARLIAMENT 


473 


Hackney,  who  was  in  Court  dress.  He  spoke  well,  but  wan- 
dered discursively  into  matters  that  seemed  to  have  no  appli- 
cation to  the  Address.  He  referred  slightly,  by  innuendo,  to 
me,  as  being  in  the  House,  with  a  large  knowledge  of  Africa. 
Dr.  Tanner,  contravening  the  usage  of  the  House,  cried  out, 
'That  is  Stanley!' 

After  Robertson,  up  rose  Sir  William  Harcourt  in  a  ponder- 
ous way,  extremely  old-fashioned  and  histrionic.  I  used,  in 
my  boyhood,  to  fancy  this  style  was  very  grand ;  but,  with 
more  mature  intelligence,  I  cannot  say  I  admire  it.  It  is  so 
markedly  stage-like,  that  I  feel  a  resentful  contempt  for  it. 
All  the  time  I  thought  how  much  better  his  speech  would 
sound  if  he  left  off  that  ponderous  manner,  and  was  more 
natural.  He,  no  doubt,  has  the  gift  of  speech ;  but  the  style  is 
superfluous.  It  is  slow  and  heavy,  reminding  one  of  the  heavy 
gentlemen  of  a  past  age  on  the  boards,  playing  The  Justice ; 
and,  naturally,  chaff  came  in  freely;  for  it  all  seemed  part  of 
the  comedy.  Balfour  called  it  '  easy  badinage,'  but  that  is  his 
polite  way. 

I  find  that  the  art  of  speaking  has  not  been  cultivated.  Each 
speaker,  so  far,  has  shewn  that  he  possesses  matter  abundantly 
—  words  flow  easily,  which  make  readable  speeches ;  but 
while  I  did  not  expect,  where  it  was  not  needed,  any  oratorical 
vehemence  or  action,  I  did  expect  what  I  might  call  'the  orator- 
ical deportment,'  such  as  would  fit  the  subject-matter.  The 
speakers  have  words  and  intonations  that  ought,  with  im- 
proved manner,  to  elevate  them  in  the  mind  of  the  listener. 
Their  hands  fidget  about  books  and  papers,  their  bodies  sway 
in  contrary  attitude  to  the  sentiment.  I  attribute  this  to  want 
of  composure,  born  of  nervousness.  Yet  such  veteran  speakers 
by  this  time  ought  to  be  above  being  flurried  by  a  sympathetic 
House. 

Balfour  came  next,  with  a  long  speech,  which  was  un- 
doubtedly a  relief. 

Sir  Charles  Dilke  jumped  up  after  Balfour,  and  he  seemed 
to  me  to  come  nearer  to  what  I  had  been  expecting  to  see.  His 
voice  is  showy,  but  not  so  sweet  as  Balfour's.  His  manner  is 
cool,  composed,  and  more  appropriate  to  the  spirit  of  debate, 
as  I  conceive  it.  There  is  an  absence  of  all  affectation,  so  that 
he  is  vastly  preferable  to  Harcourt.    It  is  a  cultivated  style; 


474  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

he  seems  to  be  sure  of  his  facts,  there  is  no  deprecation,  neither 
is  there  haughtiness.  He  is  professionally  courteous,  and 
holds  himself  best  of  all.  With  the  sweet  voice  of  Balfour,  his 
own  composure  and  self-possession,  I  think  Dilke  would  have 
been  superior  to  all. 

Mr.  Seton-Karr  was  also  excellent.  Matter,  style,  bearing, 
most  becoming ;  no  hesitancy,  doubt,  or  awkwardness,  visible. 
Good-tempered,  too.  His  subject  was  not  such  as  to  call  for 
exertion  of  power ;  but  he  was  decidedly  agreeable. 

Up  rose  Mr.  Haldane,  and  gave  us  a  lecture,  extremely 
bantering  in  tone.  His  whole  pose  was  so  different  from  all 
his  predecessors!  The  solemn  ponderousness,  and  affected 
respect  for  the  House,  of  Harcourt;  the  deprecating  manner 
of  Balfour ;  the  professional  gravity  of  Dilke,  were  so  opposite 
to  the  gage-throwing  style  of  Haldane.  He  is  a  combatant, 
and  only  bides  his  chance. 

John  Redmond  followed,  with  a  plain,  matter-of-fact,  but 
good  speech.  He  does  not  aim  at  making  impressions,  but  to 
deliver  himself  of  a  duty. 

John  Dillon  was  next.  He,  also,  has  a  thin  voice,  and  speaks 
well ;  but,  while  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  excite  ex- 
cessive admiration,  he  wins  our  respect  and  friendly  tolerance. 
There  is  no  arrogance ;  but  he  impresses  one  as  well-meaning, 
though  blindly  devoted  to  meaner  glories  for  his  country,  and 
wholly  unconscious  of  the  grander  glories  that  he  might  obtain 
for  Ireland,  if  he  had  good  sense. 

After  Dillon,  followed  Gerald  Balfour,  with  his  brother 
Arthur's  voice  and  manner.  He  wins  our  regard  for  him  per- 
sonally, and  we  feel  sure  as  he  goes  on  that  the  speaker  has  a 
lofty  idea  of  his  duty,  and  that  he  will  do  it,  too,  though  he  die 
for  it.  There  is  not  a  single  phrase  that  expresses  anything  of 
the  kind ;  but  the  air  is  unmistakeable :  neither  bludgeons,  nor 
knives,  nor  pistols  held  to  his  head  would  make  him  budge 
from  the  performance  of  duty !  It  is  a  noble  pair  of  brothers  — 
Arthur  and  he !  We  are  all  proud  of  them !  They  are  fine  per- 
sonalities, '  out  and  out ! ' 

The  impossible  Dr.  Tanner,  however,  found  that  he  could 
make  objections  to  them.  I  was  quite  thirty-five  feet  away 
from  him,  and  yet  I  heard  him  call  him  —  Gerald  —  '  the 
Baby.'  'Babydoes  n't  know.  Oh,  they  are  only  snobs,' etc.,  etc. 


IN   PARLIAMENT  475 

There  were  sixty  gentlemen  on  our  side  who  heard  Tanner, 
but  all  they  said  was  'Order !  Order  !'  This,  to  me,  is  a  wonder- 
ful instance  of  the  courtesy  to  be  found  in  the  House.  Sixty 
big,  strapping  gentlemen  can  sit  still,  and  hear  their  chiefs 
insulted,  and  called  'snobs,'  and  only  call  'Order!  Order!' 

'Tay-Pay'  followed,  which,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
brogue,  would  have  been  equal  to  the  best  speech  of  the 
House.  He  might  have  been  Curran,  Shiel,  O'Connell,  and 
Burke  combined,  but  the  '  brogue'  would  have  reduced  his 
oratory  to  third-rate.  Nevertheless,  in  the  construction,  copi- 
ousness, command  of  words,  and  easy,  composed  bearing,  he 
deserves  to  rank  with  Dilke.  But  the  sibilancy  of  his  words 
distracts  the  ear,  and  that  is  a  pity.  He  can  be  animated, 
though,  and  at  the  right  time.  He  made  good  play  with  Gerald 
Balfour's  expression  of  an  '  unchanging,  and  an  inflexible, 
opposition  to  Home-Rule.'   I  have  always  cared  for  '  Tay-Pay.' 

At  midnight,  we  rose  and  left  the  House.  Before  I  had 
finished  my  pipe,  and  a  chapter  of  Grote,  it  was  I  A.  M.  At 
6  A.  M.  of  the  17th,  punctually,  I  was  up  again,  made  my 
own  tea,  and,  at  7  A.  M.,  I  wTas  at  my  desk  writing  this  rapid 
sketch  for  my  wife ! 

August  20th.  Yesterday  was  one  of  the  most  wearying  days 
I  have  experienced  since  leaving  Africa.  To  secure  a  seat  at  all, 
one  has  to  visit  the  House  at  an  early  hour  to  write  his  name, 
and  then  one  had  to  be  on  hand  for  Prayers.  The  sitting  began 
at  3  p.m.,  and  ended  this  morning  at  2.20  —  eleven  hours  and 
forty  minutes!  We  voted  seven  times,  which  occupied  over 
three  hours.  We  listened  to  the  most  dreary  twaddle  which  it 
has  ever  been  my  lot  to  hear !  Tim  Healy  was  up  from  his  seat 
oftener  than  any  two  men,  and  appeared  to  be  maliciously  bent 
on  tiring  us  all  out.  He  reminds  me,  when  he  speaks,  of  a 
gentle  little  zebra,  trying  to  '  moo.'  His  round  glasses,  and  the 
vast  concave  between  his  cheek-bones  and  eyebrows,  give 
him  this  peculiar  resemblance.  When  he  turned  to  us,  and 
said,  'I  look  across  at  the  boasted  Majority,  and  I  cannot  say 
I  regard  it  with  awe,'  his  likeness  to  a  little  zebra-cow  wras 
impressed  on  me  by  the  way  he  brought  out  the  words.  It  was 
a  perfect,  gentle  'moo,'  in  tone. 

I  have  now  learned  to  know  all  the  most  prominent  among 
the  Irish  Members  by  sight.   There  is  a  marked  difference  in 


476  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

type  between  them  and  our  Members.  The  Celtic,  or  Iberian, 
type  affords  such  striking  contrasts  to  the  blonde,  high-col- 
oured Anglo-Saxon.  There  is  the  melancholy-looking  John 
Dillon,  who  resembles  a  tall  Italian  or  Spaniard ;  there  is  the 
sanguine  Dalziell,  like  one  of  the  Carlists  of  my  youthful  days ; 
there  is  the  quaint-faced  Pickersgill,  with  the  raven  hair; 
'Tay-Pay,'  with  hair  dark  as  night,  who,  despite  his  London 
training,  is  still  only  a  black-haired  Celt;  and  many  more 
singular  types,  strongly  individualistic.  While,  on  our  side, 
Sir  William  Houldsworth  best  represents  the  florid-faced 
gentlemen  who  form  the  sturdy,  long-suffering  Majority. 

The  Obstructive  tactics,  about  which  I  heard  so  much  in  the 
past,  have  been  pursued  for  three  days  now,  most  skilfully. 
Like  an  unsophisticated  new  Member,  I  have  sat  watching 
curiously,  speaker  after  speaker  rising  to  his  feet  on  the  Oppo- 
sition side,  wondering  why  they  showed  so  much  greater 
energy  than  our  people,  and  expecting  to  be  rewarded  with  a 
great  speech ;  but  so  far  I  have  waited  in  vain.  It  dawned  upon 
me,  after  a  while,  that  they  were  all  acting  after  a  devised 
plan.  There  was  absolutely  nothing  worth  listening  to  in 
anything  any  one  of  them  said,  but  it  served  admirably  to 
waste  time,  and  to  exasperate,  or,  rather,  fatigue  one. 

Towards  midnight,  the  patience  of  the  Government  seemed 
worn  out,  and  from  that  hour,  until  2.20  A.  M.,  we  were  kept 
marching  to  the  lobbies,  and  being  counted.  Each  count  occu- 
pies from  twenty  minutes  to  half  an  hour.  We  went  through 
the  performance  four  times  in  succession,  and  our  majorities 
were  double  the  total  number  of  the  minority. 

I  was  so  tired,  when  I  came  home,  that  I  felt  as  if  I  had 
undergone  a  long  march.  The  close  air  of  the  House  I  feel  is 
most  deleterious  to  health,  for  the  atmosphere  of  the  small 
chamber  after  the  confinement  of  about  three  hundred  and 
fifty  Members  for  eleven  hours,  must  needs  be  vitiated. 

We  are  herded  in  the  lobbies  like  so  many  sheep  in  a  fold ; 
and,  among  my  wonders,  has  been  that  such  a  number  of 
eminent  men  could  consent  voluntarily  to  such  a  servitude,  in 
which  I  cannot  help  seeing  a  great  deal  of  degradation. 

The  criminal  waste  of  precious  time,  devotion  to  antique 
customs,  the  silent  endurance  of  evils,  which,  by  a  word,  could 
be  swept  away,  have  afforded  me  much  matter  of  wonder. 


IN    PARLIAMENT  477 

There  are  Irish  M.  P.'s  who  must  feel  amply  rewarded,  in 
knowing  that,  through  sheer  excess  of  impudence  only,  they 
can  condemn  so  many  hundreds  of  their  betters  to  bend 
servilely  to  their  behests !  At  many  of  the  divisions,  I  have 
been  almost  smothered  by  Hicks-Beach,  the  Marquis  of 
Lome,  Austin  Chamberlain,  Arthur  Balfour,  Tom  Ellis, 
Arnold-Forster,  Henry  Chaplin,  George  Curzon,  Lord  Comp- 
ton,  Sydney  Gedge,  Lord  Dalkeith,  Coningsby  Disraeli,  and 
scores  of  great  land-owners  and  others;  temperature  in  the 
nineties.  While,  on  the  other  side  of  our  cage,  stood  Tim  Healy 
in  the  cool  hall,  smiling  inwardly  at  this  servility  on  the  part 
of  so  many  noble  and  worthy  men ! 

But,  if  I  pity  this  dumb  helplessness  of  our  great  Majority, 
and  marvel  at  its  meek  submissiveness  to  the  wholly  unneces- 
sary, I  pity  still  more  that  solitary  figure  in  the  Speaker's 
Chair,  who  has  been  sitting,  and  standing,  from  3  p.  M.  to 
2.20  A.  M.  One  said  to  me,  'What  won't  six  thousand  pounds 
a  year  do?'  Well,  I  swear  that  I  am  above  it,  if  the  reward 
was  double ;  because  I  should  not  survive  it  long,  and  hence 
would  derive  no  benefit  from  the  big  pay.  I  pity  him  from 
my  heart,  and  I  hope  sincerely  that  his  constitution  is  strong 
enough  to  bear  it.  No  mortal  can  sit  eleven  hours,  on  a  rich 
diet,  and  long  survive. 

August  23rd.  The  vote  in  connection  with  the  Foreign 
Office,  on  the  21st,  formed  a  legitimate  excuse  for  my  rising 
to  deliver  a  few  remarks,  in  answer  to  Sir  Charles  Dilke.  I  see 
those  remarks  are  called  my  Maiden  Speech,  but  as  I  made  no 
preparation  —  as  I  really  did  not  suspect  there  would  be  any 
occasion  for  interposing  in  the  debate  —  I  do  not  think  they 
deserve  to  be  called  a  speech. 

Sir  Charles,  in  that  professional  manner  I  have  already 
alluded  to,  began  with  drawing  attention  to  Armenia  and 
China,  and,  as  though  he  was  again  about  to  set  out  on  a  tour 
through  Greater  Britain,  soon  entered  upon  the  question  of 
the  evacuation  of  Egypt;  and,  then  airily  winging  his  way 
across  the  dark  continent,  lighted  on  West  Africa  and  its 
affairs,  dipped  into  the  liquor  traffic ;  then  suddenly  flew 
towards  Uganda,  and,  after  a  short  rest,  continued  his  flight  to 
Zanzibar  and  Pemba. 

As  an  exhibition  of  the  personal  interest  he  took  in  matters 


478  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

abroad,  in  little- known  countries,  no  fault  could  be  found 
with  his  discursive  flights ;  that  is,  if  the  Committee  were  sit- 
ting for  the  purpose  of  judging  his  proficiency  and  knowledge. 
But,  as  the  House  takes  no  interest  in  any  one's  personal 
qualifications,  his  speech  was,  I  thought,  superfluous. 

It  is  not  easy,  however,  to  reply  in  the  House,  all  at  once. 
Half  a  score  of  Members  are  on  the  'qui-vive'  to  discharge 
upon  the  submissive  body  their  opinions.  I  perceive  as  each 
would-be  speaker  rises  to  attract  the  Chairman's  attention 
that  his  thoughts  are  abundant;  but,  when  he  is  permitted 
to  speak,  the  thoughts  do  not  flow  so  smoothly  out  of  his 
lips  as  they  may  have  coursed  through  his  mind !  If  he  is 
a  new  Member,  he  is  a  pitiable  object  at  such  a  time.  Even 
the  old  Members  are  not  always  happy. 

Well,  after  Sir  Charles  Dilke  sat  down,  our  friend  James 
Bryce  rose,  who,  I  must  admit,  speaks  fluently,  as  well  he 
might,  with  his  great  experience  as  a  Lecturer,  Member,  and 
Minister.  I  do  not  think  he  is  at  all  nervous ;  at  least,  I  should 
not  judge  him  to  be  so  from  his  manner. 

After  him,  rose  Mr.  McKenna  to  ask  about  Siam.  I  had 
made  a  little  move,  but  I  was  too  late,  having  not  quite  con- 
cluded in  my  own  mind  that  I  ought  to  speak. 

When  he  finished,  Commander  Bethell  had  the  floor.  These 
old  Members  shoot  to  their  feet  with  a  sudden  spring,  like 
Jack-in-the-Box.  He  spoke  upon  Egypt  and  the  new  countries 
of  Central  Africa  like  one  desirous  of  obtaining  information 
upon  matters  which  puzzled  him. 

Parker  Smith,  sitting  beside  me,  was  on  his  feet  in  an  in- 
stant ;  but  what  he  said  seemed  to  me  rather  an  indistinct  echo 
of  what  his  brother  C.  S.  Smith  (formerly  Consul  at  Zanzibar) 
thinks  of  Zanzibar  slavery. 

I  rose,  a  trifle  after  he  finished;  but  the  veteran,  'Tommy' 
Bowles,  was  ahead  of  me,  and  what  he  said  was  fatal  to  the 
repose,  and  concentration,  of  mind  necessary  for  a  speech. 
He  speaks  excellently,  and  delivers  good,  solid  matter.  My 
surprise  at  his  power,  and  my  interest  in  what  he  said,  was  so 
great,  that  I  could  not  continue  the  silent  evolution  of  thought 
in  which  I  should  have  engaged,  had  he  been  less  interesting 
and  informing ;  and  here  I  ought  to  say,  that  I  do  not  join  with 
some  in  their  dislike  of  him.   He  is  not  a  man  to  be  despised. 


IN   PARLIAMENT  479 

As  a  public  speaker,  he  comes  very  near  in  ability  to  Chamber- 
lain, who  is,  without  doubt,  the  best  debater  in  the  House. 
Given  the  fitting  subject,  suited  to  his  manner,  Mr.  Bowles 
would  certainly  prove  that  my  opinion  of  him  as  a  Parliamen- 
tary debater  is  correct.  He  is  quite  cool,  uses  good  language, 
and  handles  his  arguments  with  skill.  Then,  again,  there  is 
no  oddity  or  awkwardness  of  bearing,  to  neutralize  the  effect 
of  his  words.  As  I  supposed  he  was  drawing  to  a  close,  I 
resolutely  collected  my  straying  thoughts,  and  excluded  what 
he  was  saying  out  of  my  mind ;  and,  as  he  was  sitting  down,  I 
stood  up,  and  Mr.  Lowther  called  out  'Mr.  Stanley'  in  a  firm, 
clear  voice. 

It  is  not  a  pleasant  feeling  to  look  down  from  the  third  row 
upon  an  intelligent  and  critical  Opposition,  who,  you  feel,  are 
going  to  pay  more  attention  to  the  manner  than  the  matter 
of  your  speech.  The  reporters  and  editorial  Members^  in 
remarking  upon  how  I  spoke,  gave  free  rein  to  their  fancies. 
'Tay-Pay,'  as  you  must  have  seen  in  the  pink  'Sun1  I  sent 
you,  has  excelled  all  the  rest  in  his  imaginative  description  of 
my  deportment.  You  will  wonder,  perhaps,  when  I  say  that 
the  picture  of  me,  which  he  gives,  is  far  from  representing  my 
inwardness.  All  my  fellow-members  have  a  remarkable  gift 
of  easy  verbosity.  There  is  a  small  kernel  of  fact  in  almost 
every  sentence  they  deliver,  but  it  is  often  indistinguishable, 
through  the  vast  verbiage. 

The  veriest  trine  of  commonplace  fact  is  folded  round  and 
round  with  tissue  after  tissue  of  superfluity.  If  a  Member 
wished  to  say  that  he  had  seen  a  rat,  he  seems  to  be  unable 
to  declare  the  fact  nakedly,  but  must  hedge  it  about  with  so 
many  deprecatory  words  that  you  are  apt  to  lose  sight  of  the 
substance.  He  says :  '  I  venture  to  say,  with  the  permission 
of  the  House,  that  unless  my  visual  organs  deceive  me,  and 
the  House  will  bear  me  out  when  I  say  that  my  powers  of 
ocular  perception  are  not  of  the  most  inferior  kind,  that,' 

etc.,  etc. 

To  nervous  people,  this  verbiage  serves  as  a  shelter,  until 
they  can  catch  the  idea  they  are  groping  for.  I  wanted  some 
such  shelter  badly,  for  it  requires  a  strong  effort  to  marshal 
out  your  ideas  and  facts,  so  that  there  shall  be  no  awkward 
break  in  the  speech.    Gladstone  used  to  shelter  to  excess;  he 


480  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

circumvented,  to  a  weary  length;  and  often  required  more 
than  one  sentence  before  he  could  muster  courage  to  approach 
the  fact. 

Well !  I  have  not  got  the  art !  First,  I  have  not  the  pa- 
tience ;  and,  then,  again,  I  disdain  the  use  of  the  art,  on  prin- 
ciple. I  want  to  say  what  I  have  to  say,  right  out,  and  be 
done  with  it,  —  which  does  not  tend  to  elegance. 

Considering  these,  my  Parliamentary  imperfections,  my 
facts  rolled  out  without  being  over-detached.  Some  say  I 
spoke  rapidly.  They  are  wrong.  I  spoke  at  the  ordinary  rate 
of  public  speech,  and  distinctly.  By  the  kindness  of  the 
House,  I  was  made  to  feel  that  I  was  not  saying  anything 
foolish  or  silly.  That  was  the  main  point,  and  inspired  me  with 
just  enough  confidence  to  prevent  an  ignominious  break- 
down. I  sat  down  with  the  feelings  of  one  who  had  made  a 
deep  dive,  and  came  up  just  in  time  to  relieve  the  straining 
lungs.  Members  all  said  that  I  had  done  well.  I  was  con- 
gratulated right  and  left.  Well,  honestly,  I  did  not  know 
whether  I  was  doing  well  or  ill !  I  had  a  few  sentiments  to 
utter,  and  I  felt  relieved  that  they  were  not  botched. 

In  the  afternoon,  Parker  Smith  got  up,  and  remarked  that, 
in  what  I  said,  I  had  been  '  trading  on  my  reputation.'  Fancy 
a  young  fellow,  sitting  next  to  you,  getting  up  and  saying 
such  a  thing,  —  and  he  a  veteran  Parliamentarian  !  I  chose 
my  time,  and  got  up  to  say  that  I  was  wholly  unaware  of  hav- 
ing uttered  a  word  calling  for  such  a  remark ;  and  I  begged  the 
honourable  gentleman  not  to  make  any  more  such ! 

Yesterday,  however,  I  did  not  make  a  brilliant  figure. 
Ashmead-Bartlett,  a  truly  busy  bee,  asked  a  question  in  regard 
to  the  hanging  of  Stokes,  an  English  trader  in  East  Africa. 
I,  not  wishing  that  the  House  should  express  too  great  an 
indignation,  got  up  a  question  which,  while  it  did  justice  to 
poor  Stokes's  merits,  showed  how  rash  and  misguided  he  had 
been  in  consorting  with  Kibonge,  the  murderer  of  Emin  Pasha, 
and  supplying  him  with  arms,  But  the  question  was  too  long, 
and  the  Speaker  checked  me  when  I  was  near  the  end  of  it. 

I  have  not  been  clear  of  a  headache  all  this  week.  The 
atmosphere  in  the  House,  during  this  great  heat,  is  simply 
poisonous.  I  do  not  wonder,  now,  at  the  pasty,  House-of- 
Commons  complexion;   four  hundred  people   breathing  for 


IN   PARLIAMENT  481 

ten  or  eleven  hours  the  air  of  one  room  must  vitiate  it.  Then 
my  late  hours,  2  and  3  A.  m.,  simply  torture  me.  One  night,  I 
was  relieved  by  Labouchere  pairing  with  me ;  and  so  got  home 
by  midnight,  and  slept  six  hours.  On  all  other  nights,  I  have 
not  been  able  to  obtain  more  than  four  hours'  sleep. 

Yesterday,  I  paired  with  Labouchere,  for  the  rest  of  the 
Session  from  to-night ;  so  I  shall  lie  in  bed  all  day  to-morrow, 
to  rest ;  and,  after  finishing  some  private  work,  shall  depart 
on  my  holiday. 

Thus  ends  this  Journal  of  Stanley's  first  week  in  Parliament. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
SOUTH  AFRICA 

JANUARY  1st,  1896.  We  have  begun  the  New  Year 
badly!  The  hurricane  blast  I  predicted  has  burst  out 
in  the  form  of  a  denunciatory  message  from  President 
Cleveland  upon  the  subject  of  the  Venezuela  claims.  Though 
it  was  very  unstatesmanlike  of  Cleveland  to  word  his  message 
with  such  violence,  we  have  given  some  provocation. 

Time  after  time  have  various  Secretaries  of  State  written, 
urging  us  to  come  to  some  agreement  with  the  Venezuelan 
Government,  and  offered  their  friendly  arbitration,  or  medi- 
ation, as  it  was  not  conducive  to  good-will  between  us  and 
the  Americans,  to  have  such  long-standing  grievances  acting 
as  an  irritant  between  the  Americans  and  the  English  people. 
Secretary  Bayard's  letter  of  appeal  ought  to  have  moved  us 
to  instant  action,  on  account  of  its  undoubtedly  friendly  sen- 
timents, written  with  such  earnestness  and  kindly  feeling. 
The  turning  of  a  deaf  ear  to  such  a  letter  as  this  no  doubt 
made  the  Americans  believe  that  nothing  but  a  thunder-clap, 
such  as  Cleveland  has  given,  would  rouse  us  to  consider  the 
matter  seriously. 

The  English  papers  have  been  quite  taken  aback  by  it; 
and,  here  and  there,  some  fools  are  talking  of  resistance  !  One 
man,  who  holds  a  high  office  in  the  State,  talked  to  me  last 
night  of  the  manner  wTe  should  fight  the  Americans !  Poor  old 
soul,  he  did  not  expect  the  contempt  with  which  I  extinguished 
his  martial  ardour.  Why !  if  Venezuela  and  Guiana  were  both 
wiped  out  of  the  map,  America  and  England  would  suffer 
from  it  far  less  than  from  recent  speculative  dishonesty.  In 
addition  to  this  shock  from  America,  we  are  considerably  dis- 
turbed by  the  Armenian  atrocities,  and  what  action  we  might 
be  urged  to  take  in  behalf  of  the  oppressed  Armenians.  The 
Radicals  are  very  bellicose,  and  would  applaud  Lord  Salis- 
bury if  he  sent  a  fleet  up  the  Dardanelles.  To-day,  we  have 
news  that  Dr.  Jameson  has  invaded  the  Transvaal,  with  a 


SOUTH  AFRICA  4§3 

small  force  between  four  hundred  and  six  hundred  strong! 
The  details  are  meagre,  but  the  impression  is  that  he  is  alone 
in  this  wild  escapade.  A  '  Sun'  interviewer  has  asked  me  my 
opinion  in  the  matter,  and  I  have  said  frankly  that  it  is  our 
duty  to  drive  him  back  quicker  than  he  went  in.  It  is  not 
so  very  long  ago  that  I  entertained  both  Jameson  and  Rhodes 
here.  I  never  suspected  that  either  of  them  would  have  been 
concerned  in  such  a  harum-scarum  act  as  this ! 

July  7th,  Tuesday.  Dined  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Yates 
Thompson.  The  Jameson  Raid  was  very  much  discussed  ;  and 
I  found  myself,  in  this  instance,  quite  in  accord  with  the 
Radicals  whom  I  met  there. 

July  Qth.  Dined  with  Lord  James  of  Hereford.  I  was  sur- 
prised at  his  saying  that  there  were  extenuating  circum- 
stances for  Jameson's  act,  but  it  is  evident  that  his  legal 
acumen  is  awry.  Under  no  circumstances  would  we  profit  by 
this  Raid,  however  successful  it  might  have  been. 

Stanley  greatly  rejoiced  at  the  arrival  of  our  little  boy,  Denzil,  and 
bought  picture-books  for  him,  and  toys  suited  to  a  child  of  four!  In 
1896,  during  a  long  and  serious  illness,  what  best  pleased  Stanley 
was  to  have  the  baby  placed  beside  him  on  the  bed.  One  day,  when 
the  child  was  there,  Stanley  looked  up  at  me  and  said,  'Ah,  it  is 
worth  while  now  ...  to  get  well ! ' 

It  was  these  frequent  attacks  of  gastralgia,  or  gastritis,  complicated 
by  malaria,  which  made  me  so  dread  his  returning  to  xAirica.  After 
our  marriage,  I  felt  no  security.  He  himself  thought  he  would  have 
to  go  back  to  the  Congo,  for  a  time,  '  to  put  things  right.'  But  I  knew 
that  he  ought  never  to  return  there. 

Stanlev  was  constantly  being  attacked  by  fever  and  these  internal 
pains,  which  came  without  any  warning,  and  with  such  intensity, 
that  breathing  was  impeded.  The  first  attack  was  in  the  Forest  of 
Central  Africa,  and  he  describes  his  illness  in  '  Darkest  Africa,'  an 
illness  attributable,  possibly,  to  the  poor  diet,  and,  afterwards,  to 
starvation. 

Two  days  before  our  marriage  he  was  taken  ill,  in  the  same  way, 
an  illness  that  lasted  many  weeks. 

During  Stanley's  malaria  attacks,  the  shivering  preceding  the  hot 
stage  was  so  violent  that  the  bed  he  lay  on  would  shake,  and  the 
glasses  on  the  table  vibrate  and  ring.  I  might  come  in  from  a  walk, 
and,  not  seeing  Stanlev  in  his  library,  run  upstairs  to  his  room,  and 
find  him  in  bed,  covered  with  blankets,  quilts,  even  great-coats ;  with 
chattering  teeth,  and  hurried  speech,  he  would  bid  me  get  hot-water 
bottles  to  pack  round  him.  Then,  when  the  cold  fit  had  passed,  and 
the  heat  had  reached  its  maximum,  he  would  speak  to  me  re-assur- 


484  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

ingly,  and  tell  me  not  to  fear,  that  all  would  be  well ;  that  it  was 
only  '  Africa  in  me,'  and  I  must  get  the  quinine  ready.  The  terrible 
sweating  over,  he  would  take  twenty  to  twenty-five  grains  of  quinine, 
and  .  .  .  wait!  So  I  came  to  know  exactly  what  to  do;  but  I  vowed, 
in  my  heart,  that  he  should  never  return  to  the  country  which  had 
taken  so  much  of  his  splendid  vitality ;  for  Stanley  had  had  three 
attacks  of  haematuric  fever,  in  Africa,  and  more  severe  malaria 
fevers  than  he  could  number. 

In  June,  1896,  we  arranged  to  visit  Spain,  as  he  wanted  to  show 
me  Madrid,  Toledo,  etc.,  etc. ;  but,  in  the  train,  four  hours  before 
we  got  to  Madrid,  he  was  seized  with  one  of  these  mysterious  gastric 
attacks,  and  when  we  arrived,  soon  after  midnight,  he  was  hardly 
conscious,  from  extreme  pain. 

I  could  not  speak  Spanish,  and  knew  no  one  in  Madrid.  We  went 
to  the  principal  hotel,  on  the  Puerta  del  Sol ;  and  there  I  waited  till 
morning,  when  a  clever  Austrian  doctor  came  to  my  assistance,  but 
there  seemed  little  we  could  do.  Day  by  day,  Stanley  grew  weaker ; 
and,  at  last,  in  desperation,  I  decided,  ill  as  he  was,  to  get  him  back 
to  England.  By  the  time  we  reached  Paris,  Stanley  was  rather  bet- 
ter, and,  for  two  days,  he  was  free  from  the  pain  and  intermittent 
fever.  But  it  was  only  a  short  lull,  for  the  spasms  returned,  with 
redoubled  violence,  and  it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  I 
succeeded  in  getting  him  back  to  our  home  in  London. 

There,  I  nursed  him  for  three  months,  until  he  gradually  recov- 
ered. Thus  he  would  enjoy  spaces  of  perfect  health,  with  intervals 
of  the  old  trouble.  I  think  Stanley  feared  nothing  in  the  world  as  he 
feared  those  first  ominous  stabs  of  pain ;  but  when  the  spasms  were 
steadily  recurrent,  and  no  doctor  could  give  him  any  relief,  Stanley 
accepted  the  pain  and  weakness,  silently  and  stoically.  Here,  for 
instance,  is  an  entry  in  his  Journal,  in  1897:  — 

Pain  has  commenced  —  unable  to  take  even  milk  without 
sickness ;  am  resigned  for  a  long  illness  —  it  is  now  inevitable ; 
shall  not  be  able  to  attend  Parliament  again  this  Session. 

I  knew  by  the  sound  of  his  voice,  when  he  called  me  in  the  middle 
of  the  night,  that  the  pain  had  come;  sometimes  it  left  quite  sud- 
denly, and  we  looked  at  each  other,  I,  pale  with  fear,  lest  it  should 
return.  In  1897,  the  attack  recorded  above  did  not  last,  as  he  had 
feared,  but,  in  1898,  at  Cauterets,  in  the  Pyrenees,  he  was  again 
taken  ill.   He  writes  in  his  Journal,  August  15th  :  — 

Felt  the  first  severe  symptoms  of  a  recurring  attack.  Have 
had  two  attacks  of  fever,  and  now  have  steady  pain  since 
Sunday  night,  but  rose  to-day. 

August  17th,  LuCHON.  On  arriving,  went  to  bed  at  once,  for 
my  pains  threatened  to  become  unbearable. 


SOUTH  AFRICA  485 

September  II.  Biarritz.  All  I  know  of  Luchon  is  what  I 
have  gained  during  two  short  walks  in  the  intervals  of  illness. 
On  arriving  here,  I  went  straight  to  bed. 

October  1st.  —  Left  Biarritz  for  Paris;  have  been  in  bed  the 
whole  time. 

October  10th.  —  Have  been  ill  all  the  time  in  Paris ;  returned 
to  London  after  the  dreadful  holidays. 

When  we  returned  to  London,  I  felt  very  near  despair,  the  star- 
vation diet  Stanley  was  kept  on,  had  now  reduced  him  to  such  a  state 
of  weakness  he  could  not  sit  up  in  bed.  Skilful  massage,  however, 
and  an  immediate,  generous  diet,  restored  Stanley,  as  by  magic,  to 
perfect  health.    I  return  now  to  the  Journal  for  1896. 

December  21st,  1896.  Brighton.  Warmest  greetings  to 
darling  little  Denzil,  our  own  cherub !  Possibly,  I  think  too 
much  of  him.  If  I  were  not  busy  with  work  and  other  things, 
I  should  undoubtedly  dwell  too  much  on  him,  for,  as  I  take 
my  constitutional,  I  really  am  scarce  conscious  that  I  am  in 
Brighton.  For,  look  where  I  may,  his  beautiful  features, 
lightened  up  with  a  sunny  smile,  come  before  my  eyes  all  the 
time!  I  see  him  in  your  arms,  and  I  marvel  greatly  at  my 
great  happiness  in  possessing  you  two!  Believe  it  or  not,  as 
you  like,  but  my  heart  is  full  of  thankfulness  that  I  have  been 
so  blessed. 

Denzil  is  now  inseparable  from  you  —  and  you  from  him.  — 
Together,  you  complete  the  once  vague  figure  of  what  I 
wished  ;  and  now  the  secret  of  my  inward  thoughts  is  realised, 
a  pre-natal  vision,  embodied  in  actual  existence. 

Now  take  up  Denzil,  look  full  into  his  angelic  face,  and  deep 
down  into  those  eyes  so  blue,  as  if  two  little  orbs  formed  out 
of  the  bluest  heaven  were  there,  and  bless  him  with  your 
clean  soul,  untainted  by  any  other  thought  than  that  which 
wishes  him  the  best  God  can  give  him.  At  present,  he  is  of 
such  as  are  the  beings  of  God's  heaven,  purity  itself.  —  May 
he  grow  to  noble  manhood  and  serve  God  zealously ! 

Stanley  left  Southampton  on  October  9,  1897,  per  Union  steamer 
1  Norman,'  for  South  Africa,  to  assist  in  the  opening  of  the  Bulawayo 
Railway,  by  invitation  of  the  citizens  of  Bulawayo. 

October  13th,  1897,  on  Board.  There  are  several  wee  things 
in  arms  on  board,  and  I  shake  hands  with  them  all  in  turns, 


486  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

every  morning,  as  my  '  devoir  '  to  our  Denzil.  The  white 
frocks  remind  me  of  him.  A  baby  cries,  —  there  is  a  child  at 
home,  with  just  such  a  voice,  sometimes;  and  then  he  trots 
into  memory's  view,  looks  up  brightly,  and  is  gone.  I  can  get 
a  hundred  views  of  him  in  a  minute;  it  is,  in  fact,  a  mental 
kinematograph,  and  thus  I  see  him  continually  floating  in  and 
out  of  my  recollection.  You  are,  alternately,  recalled.  My  last 
thoughts  on  going  to  sleep  are  of  you.  I  mutter  a  prayer; 
commit  you  to  God,  take  another  glance  at  the  little  baby- 
face,  and  am  asleep. 

S.  S.  Norman,  October  25th,  1897.  Ah  —  my  dear!  a  little 
baby,  nine  months  old,  was  buried  yesterday  morning  at  eight 
—  she  died  from  meningitis !  She  was  perfectly  well,  until 
long  after  we  passed  Cape  Verd.  I  had  often  encountered 
the  father  carrying  his  little  girl,  and  dancing  her  gently  up 
and  down  in  his  arms.  He  was  a  picture  of  happiness.  Then 
the  baby  pined  and  sickened ;  for  two  days  there  was  great 
anxiety ;  the  third  day  there  was  but  little  hope  left,  and,  in 
the  night,  the  child  died.  The  next  morning  the  little  body 
was  consigned  to  the  everlasting  deep ! 

After  visiting  Rhodesia,  Stanley  took  a  short  tour,  through  the 
Grange  Free  State,  the  Transvaal,  and  Natal.  I  can  only  give  brief 
selections  from  his  letters  to  me,  giving,  however,  in  full,  his  letter 
describing  Kriiger,  which,  for  discernment  of  character,  and  political 
foresight,  is  certainly  most  remarkable,  having  been  written  to  me 
two  years  before  the  war. 

Johannesburg,  November  20th,  1897.  Dined  at  the  Club, 
where  I  learnt  several  lessons.  In  Bulawayo,  Englishmen  had 
rather  an  exalted  feeling,  as  of  men  who  had  suddenly  been 
made  rich,  and  whose  prospects  were  delightful.  In  Johannes- 
burg, the  feeling  is  different.  I  find  them  subdued,  querulous, 
and  recriminatory.  They  blame  everybody  but  themselves. 
They  recapitulate  their  failures  to  obtain  justice,  the  indif- 
ference of  the  English  colonial  policy.  They  tell  instances  of 
Boer  oppression,  corruption,  tyranny,  and  hypocrisy,  with 
grinding  teeth,  and  do  not  forget  to  allude  to  the  mistakes  of 
Jameson,  the  tactlessness,  folly,  and  unhappy  consequences 
of  the  Raid ;  but  they  are  silent  as  regards  their  own  conduct, 
and  seem  to  think  they  are  as  hardly  dealt  with  by  the  British 
Government,  as  by  Kriiger  and  his  handful  of  oligarchs. 


SOUTH  AFRICA  487 

I  wish  I  could  repeat,  word  for  word,  what  I  have  been  told 
in  very  eloquent  language ;  but,  as  I  could  not  take  my  note- 
book out  at  the  dinner-table,  I  can  only  say  that  I  have  been 
much  impressed  with  all  I  have  heard,  and  feel  genuine  sym- 
pathy for  them,  which  makes  me  reluctant  to  wound  them ; 
but,  the  truth  is,  there  are  too  many  leaders,  and  each  leader 
pulls  a  contrary  way  to  his  fellows ;  consequently,  they  have 
no  concrete,  well-considered  policy.  I  quite  agree  with  them 
that  our  Government  is  to  blame  for  allowing  the  Convention 
to  be  broken  so  repeatedly ;  and  that  their  action  is  not  what 
that  of  the  Germans  would  have  been,  for  instance,  had  they 
so  many  subjects  maltreated,  and  desired  their  Treaty  rights. 

But,  though  I  would  speak  strongly  of  the  weakness  of 
England,  I  think  that  the  Uitlanders  are  also  to  blame  in  not 
acting  in  concert,  upon  a  well-arranged  plan,  compelling 
Kriiger  to  come  out  of  his  shell,  and  force  things  quicker  to  an 
issue  between  England  and  the  Transvaal. 

I  am  assuming,  of  course,  that  the  Johannesburgers  feel  all 
that  they  say,  about  oppression,  tyranny,  their  feeling  of 
desperation,  etc.,  etc. ;  but  all  their  pitiful  tales  of  distresses 
endured,  injuries  inflicted  on  persons  of  property,  audacious 
breaches  of  the  Convention,  and  so  on,  will  not  induce  England 
to  wake  up  to  her  duty,  nor  move  the  Government  to  action. 
A  Government,  even  that  like  the  Salisbury-Chamberlain, 
at  present  in  power,  must  have  strong  excuses  to  sanction  an 
undertaking  that  may  cost  millions  of  money,  and  thousands 
of  lives.  It  will  certainly  be  no  child's  play  to  use  compulsion 
on  a  man  like  Kriiger.  They  would  rather  endure  much  than 
go  to  war ;  and  yet,  if  the  Uitlanders  let  the  Unionists  go  out 
of  office,  without  convincing  them  that  they  ought  no  longer 
to  endure  this  state  of  things,  they  must  try  other  things  than 
mere  telegraphic  reports  to  the  newspapers. 

At  the  dinner-table,  I  told  them  all  very  frankly  my  opinion 
on  the  matter ;  and  said,  '  I  was  reminded  of  the  words,  "  It  is 
expedient  that  one  man  should  die  for  many."  'That  is  to 
say,'  I  explained,  '  English  people  cannot  be  moved  by  these 
reports  of  breaches  of  the  Convention.  You  must  convince 
them  that  the  sense  of  your  injuries  is  so  great  you  are  will- 
ing to  brave  death  rather  than  bear  with  what  you  consider 
intolerable.'  'But  how  can  we  do  anything?'   they  asked. 


488  HEXRY   M.   STANLEY 

1  We  are  not  allowed  arms ;  not  even  a  pistol  is  allowed  to 
come  to  the  Transvaal.' 

'  You  do  not  want  arms  of  any  kind,'  I  said.  '  I  have  seen 
enough  to  know  that  you  could  not  do  much  with  arms.  You 
do  not  even  want  a  pen-knife,  as  a  weapon  of  offence.  You 
simply  want  to  prove  to  England  your  grievances  are  real,  and 
your  patience  exhausted.  Let  England  see  that  you  dare  to 
resist  this  iniquitous  rule  under  which  you  suffer ;  and  that  you 
are  defying  the  powers  that  be,  risking  liberty  and  property ; 
and  her  opinion  will  be  swiftly  changed.  Let  ever}'  instance 
wherein  you  think  you  are  wronged  —  which  you  can  prove  is 
against  the  Convention  —  be  marked  by  resistance,  not  active, 
but  passive.  You  called  the  Convention  just  now  the  charter  of 
your  rights :  on  the  strength  of  these  rights,  let  your  resist- 
ance be  based.  The  Boer  officials  will  demand  why  such  con- 
duct ;  you  will  calmly  say.  They  will  pooh-pooh,  and  threaten 
you ;  you  will  refuse  compliance.  They  will  use  compulsion 
of  a  kind ;  they  will  imprison  or  expel  you.  There  will  be  ten, 
twenty,  forty,  a  hundred  examples  of  this  punishment.  The 
Uitlanders  should  continue  the  same  resolute  attitude  of 
resistance,  yielding  not  a  jot. 

'  The  Boers  will  soon  perceive  that  this  is  serious ;  rather  than 
expel  a  whole  population,  they  must  either  come  to  terms,  or 
try  what  violence  can  do.  If  the  latter,  some  of  you  must 
become  martyrs  to  your  sense  of  what  is  right.  Those  martyrs 
will  buy  the  freedom  of  the  others,  for  England  will  be  calling 
to  arms.  We  all  know  that  England  ought  to  have  acted  as 
became  her  on  the  first  breach  of  the  Convention ;  but  she 
resorted  to  discussion,  and  in  discussion,  at  length,  she  has 
been  beaten.  Time,  and  time  again,  has  the  Convention  been 
broken ;  and  the  answers  England  gave  to  all  of  them,  are  — 
a  pile  of  Blue-books !  The  Boers  can  go  on  at  that  game  for 
ever.  The  Boer  head  has  become  very  big.  The  self-esteem 
of  Kriiger  has  grown  intolerably  large,  to  reduce  which  will 
require  something  more  than  reason.  But  you  know,  whether 
with  an  individual  or  a  nation,  how  hard  it  is  to  suddenly 
change  from  courteous  argument  to  the  deadly  arbitrament 
of  force.  Something  is  wanted  to  rouse  the  passions  to  that 
pitch.  I  know  of  nothing  that  will  do  it  quicker  than  an 
act  of  violence  by  the  Boers.  When  the  Boers  resort  to  vio- 


SOUTH  AFRICA  489 

lence,  it  will  be  all  up  with  them.  If  I  know  anything  of 
the  English  character,  the  first  act  of  violence  will  not  be 
committed  by  them,'  etc.,  etc. 

Colonel  Saunderson,  who  was  a  fellow-guest,  agreed  with 
all  I  said. 

As  we  walked  to  the  Grand  Central  Hotel,  it  was  the 
Colonel's  opinion  that  the  Uitlanders  were  not  of  that  stuff 
from  which  martyrs  are  made.  I  agree,  but,  'even  worms  will 
turn.' 

November  23rd,  1897.  Took  train  for  Pretoria.  I  had  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  Mr.  Marks,  of  Lewis  &  Marks,  who  took 
me  to  a  kind  of  bachelor  house  he  keeps. 

November  24th.  Mr.  Marks  took  me  to  President  Kruger's 
house  at  5.30  a.  m.  It  is  an  unusually  early  time  to  visit, 
but  the  old  man  is  an  early  riser,  and  is  at  his  best  in  the 
morning. 

He  was  sitting  on  the  stoep,  with  two  old  Members  of  the 
Rand,  taking  his  coffee,  before  leaving  on  an  electioneering 
journey.  When  Marks  told  him  of  my  desire  for  an  interview, 
he  motioned  my  conductor  to  take  me  to  the  reception  saloon, 
which  opened  out  on  the  stoep.  A  grandson  of  Kruger's 
showed  me  a  chair.  It  happened  to  be  directly  in  front  of  a 
full-length  portrait  of  the  President,  so  I  was  forced  to  look 
with  wonder  at  the  bad  painting,  and  libellous  likeness  of  the 
man  I  had  come  to  see. 

Presently  Krliger  came  in,  and  seated  himself  under  his 
portrait.  Now,  as  he  was  the  man  who  held  the  destinies  of 
South  Africa  in  his  hand,  I  regarded  him  with  interest,  in  order 
to  divine  what  the  future  would  be,  from  what  I  could  gather 
of  his  character,  by  studying  his  features,  gestures,  and  talk. 
In  the  past,  I  have  often  made  fair  guesses  at  the  real  man. 
As  reporter,  special  correspondent  in  several  campaigns,  and 
in  various  cities,  and  as  traveller  over  five  continents,  I  have 
had  opportunities  enough ;  I  found,  when  in  the  presence  of 
African  chiefs  of  whose  language  I  was  ignorant,  that,  long 
before  the  interpreter  had  spoken,  I  had  rightly  guessed  what 
the  chiefs  had  said,  and  I  could  often  correct  the  interpreter. 
When  two  civilized  men  meet,  both  being  strangers,  absolutely 
independent,  unconcerned,  uninterested  in  each  other  further 
than   mere  civility  requires,   the  little   points   that  betray 


490  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

character,  mood,  or  temper  are  not  seen  ;  and  the  disposition  of 
human  nature  in  general  is  to  put  the  most  civil  construction 
possible  upon  one's  fellow-creatures  and  their  ways. 

While  the  morning  greetings  were  being  interchanged,  and 
my  eyes  kept  glancing  from  Kriiger's  face  to  that  of  the 
portrait,  the  real  man  appeared  loveable,  compared  with  the 
portrait.  His  features,  though  terribly  plain  and  worn,  were 
amiable  and  human ;  and,  if  I  had  gone  away  after  this,  I 
would  have  carried  with  me  the  ordinary  impression,  which  I 
have  seen  countless  times  in  newspapers,  that  Kriiger  was  not  a 
bad  kind  of  man  ;  a  little  obstinate,  perhaps,  but,  on  the  whole, 
well-meaning,  and  so  on.  But,  in  order  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the 
possible  future  of  the  relations  between  him  and  the  Uitland- 
ers,  I  began  to  praise  Johannesburg,  its  growth,  and  the  enter- 
prise of  the  people,  and  I  asked  Mr.  Kriiger  whether  or  not 
things  were  settling  down  more  peacefully  now.  This  was 
the  beginning  of  an  interview  which,  while  it  lasted,  revealed 
Kriiger,  the  man,  sufficiently  to  me;  so  that  if  he  were  an 
African  chief,  and  I  had  dealings  with  him,  it  would  have 
taught  me  exactly  what  to  do,  and  how  to  provide  against 
every  eventuality. 

In  short,  I  soon  saw  that  he  was  a  choleric  and  passionate 
old  man,  uncommonly  obstinate,  determined  within  himself 
that  his  view  was  the  right  one,  and  that  no  peaceful  issue 
could  be  expected,  unless  his  demands  were  complied  with, 
and  most  implicit  trust  given  to  his  word.  Now,  if  the  wel- 
fare of  my  expedition  were  at  stake,  and  I  thought  my  force 
was  equal  to  his,  or  enough  to  enable  me  to  inflict  severe  pun- 
ishment upon  him  should  he  attempt  to  carry  out  his  passion- 
ate words,  I  should  not  have  parted  from  him  without  some 
better  guarantee  than  trust  in  his  mere  word ;  and,  if  the 
guarantee  would  not  be  given,  I  should  have  gone  away  with 
the  feeling  that  the  old  man  meant  mischief,  and  that  it  was 
incumbent  on  me  to  take  every  precaution  against  him. 

Mr.  Kriiger's  manner  changed  immediately  I  had  men- 
tioned Johannesburg  and  its  people.  His  voice  and  its  vary- 
ing intonations,  every  line  in  his  face,  betrayed  the  strongest 
resentment ;  and,  when  I  suggested  that  the  smallest  conces- 
sions to  their  demands  would  modify  that  attitude  of  hostility 
to  him  which  angered  him,  he  became  the  incarnation  of  fury, 


SOUTH  AFRICA  491 

and  his  right  hand  went  up  and  down  like  a  sledge-hammer, 
and  from  his  eyes,  small  and  dull  as  they  were,  flashed  forth 
the  most  implacable  resolve  that  surrender  must  be  on  their 
side,  not  his ! 

When  an  old  man  like  this,  —  he  is  seventy-four,  —  who, 
for  the  last  sixteen  years,  at  least,  has  had  his  own  way,  and 
been  looked  up  to  by  Boer  and  Uitlander,  as  the  '  man  of  the 
situation, '  — when  he  has  made  up  his  mind  upon  having  some- 
thing, it  is  not  likely  that  any  other  course  than  his  own  can 
he  believe  to  be  the  right  one.  When  we  think  of  what  has 
happened  these  last  sixteen  years  —  his  visits  to  London,  his 
negotiations  in  Pretoria  and  London  concerning  the  Conven- 
tion, the  way  everyone,  Englishman  and  Boer,  has  yielded 
to  him,  the  adulation  paid  to  him  for  his  success,  one  cannot 
wonder  that  he  believes  that  in  this  matter  of  the  Lltlander's 
rights,  as  in  the  things  that  went  before,  his  methods,  his 
style,  and  his  way  are  the  best  and  safest! 

This  has  begotten  in  him  an  arrogance  so  large  that,  before 
he  can  be  made  sensible  that  he  is  wrong,  his  fierce  pride  must 
be  humbled ;  his  head  has  grown  so  big  with  this  vain  belief 
in  his  prowess  in  battle.  His  victories  over  Gladstone,  Lord 
Salisbury,  and  others  of  the  same  calibre,  the  implicit  trust 
of  the  Boers  in  him,  and  in  his  unconquerability,  have  been 
such,  that,  I  am  convinced,  there  is  no  room  in  that  brain  for 
one  grain  of  common-sense  to  be  injected  into  it. 

His  whole  behaviour  seems  to  say  very  clearly  to  the  ob- 
server, '  What  do  I  care  for  your  Chamberlain,  with  his  Mil- 
ners  and  Greens?  They  shall  yield  to  me  first.  I  don't  care  a 
snap  of  the  finger  for  them ;  let  them  do  their  worst ;  better 
men  than  they  have  tried  and  failed,  and  they  will  fail  too.' 
The  unmitigated  contempt  for  people  who  try  conciliation 
has  only  to  be  seen  in  Kruger,  for  one  to  know  that  the  old 
man  is  an  impossible  creature ;  and  that  he  is  only  made 
implacable  and  fierce  by  beseeching  and  conciliating. 

A  recollection  of  the  telegram  asking  '  How  is  Mrs.  Kruger  ?' 
almost  made  me  laugh  aloud,  in  Kriiger's  presence.  Such  a 
telegram,  to  this  kind  of  man  ! !  Why  !  if  a  strong  man,  armed, 
and  covered  with  impenetrable  armour,  were  to  suddenly 
rise  in  Kriiger's  sight,  and  boldly  advance,  and  seize  him  by 
the  scruff  of  the  neck,  and  shake  him,  until  a  little  of  that 


492  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

wind  of  vanity,  that  has  so  inflated  him,  escaped,  he  would 
not  have  long  to  wait  before  Kriiger  would  be  amenable  to 
reason  and  decent  conversation!  But  the  fellow  must  find 
himself  faced  by  force! 

An  exchange  of  opinions  is  now  impossible,  as  he  flies  di- 
rectly into  a  passion  at  the  mere  suggestion  that  a  different 
kind  of  treatment  to  the  Uitlanders  would  secure  to  him  the 
Presidency  for  life,  and  remove  all  fear  of  friction.  For  it  is 
something  connected  wTith  his  own  self-interest,  probably  a 
fear  that  the  votes  of  the  Uitlanders  would  upset  him  from  the 
Chair  he  fills,  drive  him  out  of  the  house  he  occupies,  diminish 
his  importance  and  his  affluent  income,  — all  this  is  at  the  bot- 
tom of  his  extreme  irascibility  and  stormy  impatience  when 
the  Uitlanders  are  mentioned. 

The  interview  did  not  last  twenty-five  minutes,  but  I  had 
seen  enough,  and  heard  more  than  enough,  to  convince  me 
that  this  was  an  extreme  case,  which  only  force  could  remedy. 

You  ask  me  to  describe  Kriiger  minutely.  Well,  he  is  very 
like  his  photographs ;  I  should  know  him  among  ten  thousand 
in  the  street;  but  to  see  and  talk  with  him  reveals  scores  of 
little  things  no  photographs  can  give.  You  have  seen  lots 
of  stout-bodied  old  Parisian  concierges ;  and  I  dare  say  you 
have  seen  them  in  their  seedy  black  clothes,  when  going  out 
on  a  visit ;  put  a  little  top-hat  on  one  of  them,  give  him  stoop- 
ing shoulders,  with  a  heavy,  lumbering,  biggish  body,  and  you 
will  know  Kriiger  at  once !  Well !  let  him  sit  vis-a-vis  to  you ; 
put  much  obstinacy  into  a  face  that  is  unusually  large,  with 
an  inch  of  forehead  and  two  small  eyes ;  let  the  figure  sink  in 
his  chair,  with  an  attitude  of  determination  in  every  line,  and 
give  him  a  big  briarwood  pipe,  which  is  held  in  his  left  hand, 
and  there  you  have  him ! 

Aged  statesmen  are  liable,  at  a  certain  age,  to  develop 
symptoms  of  the  refractoriness  and  arbitrariness  of  disposition 
which  eventually  makes  them  unsuitable  for  the  requirements 
of  the  country,  and  impossible  to  their  colleagues  in  the  Cabi- 
net. Well, '  that 's  what 's  the  matter  '  with  Kriiger !  He  is  quite 
past  reasoning  with.  Neither  Mr.  Chamberlain,  nor  Sir  Alfred 
Milner,  nor  Mr.  Greene,  will  ever  succeed  with  him;  and  I 
don't  know  any  three  men  who  so  deserve  to  succeed  as  they. 
They  are  all  capital  fellows,  brilliant,  able,  and  deserving.  Mr. 


SOUTH  AFRICA  493 

Chamberlain  has  a  deal  of  perseverance  and  convictions  of  his 
own ;  but,  ten  minutes'  talk  with  Kruger  would  give  him  the 
knowledge,  at  first-hand,  that  one  should  have  to  be  able  to 
deal  effectively  with  a  political  opponent;  and,  as  Sir  Alfred 
Milner  has  not  seen  Kruger  either,  these  two  able  men  are 
really  dealing  haphazard  with  the  President. 

What  amazes  me  is  the  extraordinary  hopefulness  of  the 
men  I  meet.  Many  residents  here  have  seen  and  known 
Kruger  intimately;  and  yet,  no  sooner  has  one  project  for 
getting  their  rights  been  baffled,  than  they  have  some  new 
scheme  afoot.  They  have  tried  everything  but  the  right  thing, 
and  will  continue  to  do  so.  If  Englishmen  on  the  spot  hardly 
realise  the  Boer  cunning  and  determination,  how  impossible 
it  is  for  the  Englishman  at  home  to  do  so ! 

Well !  much  talk  wTith  all  kinds  of  South  Africans  and  my 
talk  with  Kruger  has  opened  my  eyes  to  the  perplexities  of 
the  situation.  I  heartily  pity  the  Colonial  Secretary,  and  I 
foresee  that  the  Transvaal  will  continue  to  disturb  his  office. 
The  Boers  of  the  Cape,  the  Boers  of  the  Orange  Free  State, 
and  the  Boers  of  the  Transvaal,  will  combine,  if  any  incon- 
siderate step  is  taken  by  the  Colonial  Office. 

What,  then,  is  to  be  done?  Keep  still  and  be  patient !  No- 
thing more ;  for  these  people  of  South  Africa,  English  and  all, 
are  exasperatingly  contentious.  The  longer  we  are  quiet,  the 
more  irascible  they  will  get  with  each  other ;  our  cues  must 
be  obtained  from  South  Africa,  and  if  the  Johannesburgers 
want  us  to  help  them,  they  must  be  braver,  more  united, 
and  more  convinced  of  the  inutility  of  their  unaided  efforts ; 
nay,  were  every  Englishman  and  Afrikander  in  South  Africa 
united,  they  could  not  alone,  unaided,  stand  against  the  Boers. 

Kruger  will  plod  on  his  vindictive  way,  and  he  must,  in 
time,  wear  out  the  Johannesburgers'  patience.  They  will 
do  something  to  rouse  the  Boer  temper;  there  will  be  some 
attack  by  the  Boers,  —  confiscation  of  property,  of  territory. 
We  shall  be  asked  if  we  are  indifferent  to  our  countrymen's 
distress,  and  so  .  .  .  the  cup  will  be  full,  and  the  time  will 
have  come.  That  is  the  only  way  I  see  whereby  the  Transvaal 
is  to  be  saved  from  King  Kruger. 

Mind  you,  this  is  Kriiger's  fourth  term  of  office  that  he  is 
seeking.    Twenty  years !    Rule  for  so  long  a  time  makes  for 


494  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

Despotism ;  and,  in  an  old  man  of  his  unbending  nature,  it 
makes  for  an  accumulation  of  mistakes,  caused  by  temper, 
arrogance,  and  conceit ;  it  makes  for  the  usual  political  calam- 
ity which  precedes  the  salvation  of  a  country  or  nation. 

Marks  and  I  left  the  house,  and  while  Kriiger  hastened  to 
get  ready  for  his  electioneering  journey,  I  was  being  shewn 
the  way  to  the  Pretoria  Club,  where  I  was  cordially  received, 
and  inducted  into  the  opinions  of  other  residents  of  the  Boer 
capital. 

I  have  met  no  one  who  can  give  me  what  I  should  call  an 
intelligent  idea  of  the  outcome  of  this  tension  between  the 
Boers  and  British.  They  all  confine  themselves  to  common- 
place things  and  ideas.  Kriiger,  Reitz,  Joubert,  whom  I  have 
seen  to-day,  are  concerned  only  with  what  they  want,  and 
must  have.  Leyds,  Kotze,  Marks,  are  all  afraid  to  engage 
in  a  discussion  of  any  kind,  and  are  really  the  most  unlikely 
people  to  do  so.  The  Club  people,  not  knowing  who  may  be 
listening,  do  not  care  to  talk,  and  drop  into  monosyllables 
when  politics  are  broached,  though,  with  officious  zeal,  they 
allowed  me  to  see,  that,  in  their  opinion,  the  Transvaal  was 
ever  so  much  better  in  many  respects  than  England.  Marks 
is  a  broker,  who  looks  after  certain  interests  of  the  President. 

The  population  dwelling  in  the  hollow  below  the  dominat- 
ing heights  around,  which  are  bristling  with  cannon,  I  pre- 
sume have  no  thoughts  worth  anything,  and  are  filled  with 
content  every  time  they  look  up  at  those  defiant  forts  above 
their  city. 

I  went  to  see  Conyngham  Greene,  the  English  Political 
Resident  here.  He  has  a  very  nice  house,  situated  in  charm- 
ing surroundings  of  green  lawns  and  flowering  shrubberies, 
and  he  is  himself  very  agreeable  and  pleasant.  He  is  too 
young  to  have  any  profound  view  into  the  meaning  of  things. 
I  dare  say  he  does  his  duty  efficiently,  which  is  to  report, 
day  after  day,  upon  the  state  of  affairs,  as  he  believes  it  to 
be ;  but,  though  this  may  be  satisfactory  to  his  chief,  the 
High  Commissioner,  Sir  Alfred  Milner,  Mr.  Greene's  opinions 
appear  to  be  far  from  being  decided  one  way  or  the  other. 
My  impression  is,  that  he  thinks  the  present  tension  is  not 
likely  to  last  long,  that  it  is  a  mere  phase,  consequent  upon 
the  sore  feeling?  caused  by  the  Jameson  Raid ;  and,  in  short, 


SOUTH  AFRICA  495 

that,  though  Kruger  appears  somewhat  unappeasable  and 
unrelenting,  at  present,  he  is  sure  to  come  round,  by  and  by. 
It  is  so  like  what  I  have  heard  in  England  and  at  the  Cape. 
'Yes,  Kruger  is  terribly  obstinate,  but  he  is  a  dear  old  fellow, 
you  know,  all  the  same ;  and  he  will  be  all  right,  give  him 

time.' 

But  that  is  not  my  opinion.  Kruger  is  not  that  sort  of  man 
at  all !    He  must  meet  his  master,  and  be  overcome. 

The  week  before  I  arrived  at  the  Cape,  that  is  to  say,  only 
a  few  weeks  ago,  Sir  Alfred  Milner  made  a  speech  in  Cape 
Colony,  wherein  he  is  reported  to  have  said  that  it  was  all 
'humbug  and  nonsense  for  anyone  to  say  that  reconciliation 
was  impossible,  and  that  to  expect  good  feeling  between  the 
two  races  was  hopeless.'  It  may  be  supposed  that  he  was 
only  re-echoing  what  Air.  Conyngham  Greene  had  written 
in  his  reports. 

Mr.  Chamberlain  has  spoken  in  the  same  spirit,  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  because  of  Sir  Alfred  Milner's  views  as 
conveyed  to  him  in  despatches.  I  feel  positive  that  if  Sir 
Alfred  Milner  and  Mr.  Chamberlain  were  to  see  Kruger,  face 
to  face,  they  would  drop  that  sanguine,  optimistic  tone,  and 
quickly  and  resolutely  prepare  for  a  storm. 

Despite  all  the  wish  that  Chamberlain,  Milner,  and 
Greene  may  be  right,  the  good-will  I  feel  to  all  three  of  them, 
and  the  belief  in  their  abilities,  an  inner  voice  tells  me  that 
they  are  all  three  wrong,  that  the  Johannesburgers  who  share 
their  views  are  living  in  a  fool's  paradise.  Kruger  will  never,. 
no  never,  give  way  to  anything  that  is  no  harder  than  mere 
words !  The  man  must  be  made  to  bow  that  inflexible  spirit 
to  a  temper  that  is  more  hardened,  a  spirit  that  is  more  un- 
vielding,  and  a  force  capable  of  carving  its  way,  undeviatingly, 
to  its  object.  Whence  that  force  will  come,  it  is  impossible 
to  say.  I  feel  very  much  afraid  that  it  will  not  come  from 
England.  England  is  losing  her  great  characteristics,  she  is 
becoming  too  effeminate  and  soft  from  long  inactivity,  long 
enfeeblement  of  purpose,  brought  about  by  indolence  and 
ease,  distrust  of  her  own  powers,  and  shaken  nerves.  It  is  at 
such  times  that  nations  listen  to  false  prophets,  cranks,  fad- 
dists, and  weak  sentimentalists. 


496  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

It  will  take  time,  anyhow,  to  convince  England  that  she 
ought  to  do  anything ;  it  will  take  her  still  longer  to  provide 
the  means  for  doing  her  duty  effectively;  it  will  take  longer 
still  to  understand  the  nature  and  bigness  of  the  task  which 
it  is  her  bounden  duty  to  undertake,  and  so  be  in  a  position 
to  say  with  the  necessary  firmness  of  voice  to  Kriiger,  that 
he  must  come  to  terms,  immediately  ! 

People  in  England,  for  some  reason,  cannot  be  induced  to 
believe  in  the  reality  of  the  Johannesburg  grievances ;  they 
profess  to  regard  them  as  a  community  of  Jewish  speculators 
in  mines;  and  even  the  failure  to  assist  Jameson  in  the  Raid, 
etc.,  etc.,  has,  unfortunately,  rather  deepened  disbelief  in 
their  complaints,  which  they  please  to  consider  as  nothing 
more  than  the  usual  methods  resorted  to  by  Stock-Exchange 
speculators  to  advertise  their  wares,  and  alarm  investors,  so 
that  for  their  own  ends  they  may  make  a  \  grand  coup  ! '  But 
both  Jew  and  Christian  now  are  of  the  same  mind  as  to  the 
hopelessness  of  their  condition,  unless  Kriiger  can  be  made 
to  conform  to  the  terms  of  the  Convention  of  1884. 

Of  course,  it  is  possible  that  England  may  be  roused  to 
action  sooner  than  expected,  by  some  act  of  the  Uitlanders. 
I  believe  that  if  the  English  people  were  to  hear  that  the  Uit- 
landers in  their  desperate  state  had  resolved  upon  braving 
Kriiger  and  his  Boers  to  the  death,  and  would  show  the  ne- 
cessary courage  to  bear  martyrdom,  conviction  would  come 
quicker  to  English  minds  than  from  years  of  futile  despatch- 
writing.  If  the  Uitlanders  thus  braved  him,  I  feel  sure  that 
Kriiger  would  deal  with  them  in  the  harshest  and  most  sum- 
man'  way,  and,  in  doing  so,  he  would  be  simply  setting  every 
instrument  at  work  required  to  open  the  eyes  and  ears  of 
Englishmen  to  his  obdurate,  implacable,  and  cruel  nature; 
and,  once  they  were  convinced  of  this,  Kriiger's  downfall 
would  not  be  far  off. 

Now,  of  course,  after  the  insight  I  have  gained  into  the 
heart  of  the  question,  I  confess  I  am  not  free  from  feeling  a 
large  contempt  for  my  countrymen  for  being  so  slow-witted 
and  deaf  to  the  cries  of  the  Uitlanders;  and,  yet,  as  I  write 
this,  I  cannot  see  why  I  should  feel  such  contempt  for  them, 
for  certainly  my  own  sympathies  were  but  sluggish  when 
first  I  accepted  this  opportunity  of  coming  to  South  Africa. 


SOUTH  AFRICA  497 

To  speak  the  truth,  they  were  not  so  keen  as  to  wish  England 
might  go  to  war  with  the  Transvaal.  But  now  I  see  things 
in  a  different  light,  and  I  shall  carry  away  with  me  from 
the  Transvaal,  a  firm  conviction  that  the  English  people 
have  been  systematically  misled  about  Kriigerand  his  Boers. 
Gladstonianism,  and  that  gushing,  teary  tone  adopted  by  the 
sentimental  Peace-at-any-price  section  of  our  nation,  are 
solely  responsible  for  the  persecutions  and  insults  to  which 
our  people  have  been  subject,  since  1884,  in  the  Transvaal. 
If  it  should  come  to  fighting,  there  will  be  much  killing  done, 
and  this  will  be  entirely  due  to  sentimentalists  at  home. 

The  self-interest  of  men,  who  would  be  self-seekers  even 
under  the  heel  of  the  tyrant,  has  also  largely  contributed  to 
mislead  the  people.  Cowardice  actuates  those  who  would 
coax  Kriiger  out  of  his  sulks,  and  prefer  to  fawn  on  him 
instead  of  resenting  his  cruel  treatment  of  his  fellow-coun- 
trymen. They  profess  to  believe  in  the  piety  of  the  Boers, 
and  their  love  of  peace ;  they  dwell  on  Kruger's  attachment 
to  the  Bible,  and  believe  him  to  be  a  'dear,  good  old  fellow,' 
likely  at  any  time  to  amaze  the  world  by  generous  and  just 
conduct. 

Within  a  few  hours,  I  believe  I  could  carve  a  fair  likeness 
of  Kriiger  out  of  a  piece  of  tough  wood,  because  no  Michael 
Angelo  is  needed  to  do  justice  to  his  rugged  features  and  un- 
gainly form,  and  I  would  be  willing  to  guarantee  that  justice 
to  the  English  would  be  sooner  given  by  that  wooden  image 
than  it  will  be  by  Mr.  Kriiger ;  on  that  I  pin  my  faith  in  my 
perception  of  what  is  Kruger's  true  character. 

Were  either  Russia,  or  Germany,  in  our  position  towards 
South  Africa,  things  could  not  have  come  to  this  pass.  Cer- 
tainly the  American  Government  would  not  have  remained  so 
long  blind,  not  only  to  duty,  but  to  the  ordinary  dictates  of 
common-sense,  as  we  have  been. 

A  respectable  third  of  the  nation,  I  fancy,  feel  very  much 
as  I  do  upon  the  South  African  question ;  another  third  may 
be  said  to  prefer  letting  Kriiger  do  just  what  he  pleases,  on  the 
ground  that  no  South  African  question  can  be  of  sufficient  im- 
portance to  risk  the  danger  of  giving  offence  to  the  stubborn 
old  fellow  ;  and,  if  the  question  were  put  to  them,  point-blank, 
as  to  whether  we  should  try  and  compel  Kriiger  to  abide  by 


498  HEXRY   M.   STANLEY 

the  terms  of  the  Convention,  or  fight  him,  I  feel  sure  they 
would  say  let  South  Africa  go,  rather  than  fight ! 

The  remaining  third  comprises  the  nobodies,  the  people 
of  the  street,  the  mob,  people  who  have  no  opinion  on  any 
subject  except  their  own  immediate  and  individual  interest, 
who  follow  the  Peace  Party  to-day,  because  the  other  Partv, 
the  Party  for  Compulsion,  have  not  condescended  to  ex- 
plain to  them  why  they  should  do  otherwise.  Now,  should  it 
happen  that  the  people  of  Johannesburg,  either  after  my  ad- 
vice, or  after  their  own  methods,  take  a  resolute  front  and 
dare  to  defy  the  tyrant,  the  Party  for  Compulsion  would  then 
have  a  text  to  preach  upon ;  the  ever- varying  third  might 
be  influenced  to  side  with  it,  and  the  Government  might  then 
find  it  the  proper  thing  to  declare  war. 

I  believe,  therefore,  it  may  come  to  war.  But,  as  war  is  a 
serious  thing,  even  with  such  a  small  state  as  the  Transvaal, 
(and  who  knows  whether  the  Orange  Free  State  may  not  join 
them  ?)  I  would  not  precipitately  engage  in  it.  I  would  prefer 
to  give  Kriiger  a  good  excuse  to  descend  from  that  lofty 
and  unalterable  decision  not  to  give  way  to  anybody  or  any- 
thing. I  would  send  a  Peace  Commission  of  half  a  dozen  of 
the  noblest,  wisest,  and  most  moderate  men  we  have  got,  who 
could  discuss  all  matters  between  the  Dutch  and  ourselves, 
who  would  know  when  to  yield  on  questions  that  do  not  affect 
the  supremacy  of  England,  or  touch  on  her  vital  interests, — 
men  who  could  be  firm  with  courtesy. 

This  method,  of  course,  is  only  to  set  ourselves  right  with 
the  world,  which  is  rather  bitter  against  England  just  now, 
and  give  ourselves  time  to  prepare,  in  case  of  the  failure  of 
the  Peace  Commission. 

A  few  millions  spent  on  equipping  a  complete  Army  Corps, 
ready  to  set  out  at  an  instant's  notice,  and  another  ready 
to  support  it,  might  morally  effect  a  change  in  Kriiger's  dis- 
position. 

He  is,  I  believe,  ready  on  his  side  for  any  contingency,  or 
thinks  he  is ;  otherwise,  why  those  armed  forts  at  Pretoria, 
and  at  Johannesburg,  those  ninety  thousand  Mauser  rifles, 
and  those  batteries  of  artillery?  Why,  in  fact,  this  attitude  of 
irreconcilability  on  his  part,  were  it  not  that  he  has  been 
preparing  for  war  ? 


SOUTH   AFRICA  499 

My  dear,  I  could  go  on  for  hours  on  this  subject.  I  could 
tell  you  how  I  almost  foresee  war  in  this  peaceful-looking 
country.  The  wise  politicians  at  home  would  no  doubt  say, 
'Ah,  Stanley  is  all  very  well  as  an  explorer,  but  in  politics, 
statesmanship,  etc.,  he  is  altogether  out  of  his  element.'  _  But 
I  can  read  men,  and  the  signs  of  what  shall  come  are  written 
on  Kriiger's  face.  My  business  through  life  has  been  to  foresee, 
and  if  possible  avert  calamity  .  .  .  but  enough  is  enough! 
Time  flies,  and  the  day  of  departure  from  this  land  will  soon 
arrive,  and  every  day  that  passes  brings  me  nearer  to  you  and 
that  dear,  blessed,  little  child  of  ours,  whom  the  gods  sent  to 
cheer  our  hungry  hearts.  My  whole  soul  is  in  my  pen  as  I 
write.   God  bless  you  and  keep  you  both! 

November  26th,  1897.  In  my  hurry  to  go  to  bed  last  night,  I 
omitted  to  say  anything  about  my  impressions  of  Ladysmith, 
the  Aldershot  of  Africa.  It  was  but  a  short  view  I  had  of 
Ladysmith,  but  it  was  sufficient  to  make  me  exclaim  to  my 
fellow-passengers  that  the  officer  who  selected  that  spot  for 
a  military  camp  ought  to  be  shot !  Anyone  who  looks  at  the 
map  of  Natal  may  see  that  it  would  scarcely  do  to  make  a 
permanent  military  station  too  far  in  that  point  of  land  that 
penetrates  between  the  Transvaal  and  the  Orange  Free  State, 
unless  it  was  resolved  that  the  defences  should  be  elaborate, 
and  the  provisions  ample  enough  for  a  year  at  least. 

Dreading  what  might  some  day  be  a  trap  for  a  British  force, 
the  military  authorities  have  chosen  a  basin-like  hollow,  south 
of,  and  near,  a  river  called  the  Tugela.  When  we  came  round 
a  bend  from  Newcastle,  the  white  tents  of  the  English  soldiers 
were  seen,  away  down  in  the  hollow,  some  hundreds  of  feet 
below  us. 

With  Majuba  ever  on  one's  mind,  with  Kruger  and  his  Boers 
so  defiant  and  bold  in  their  stubbornness,  I  cannot  imagine 
what  possesses  the  commander  to  undertake  the  responsibility 
of  pretending  to  defend  a  camp,  utterly  indefensible  according 
to  my  notions. 

Of  course,  an  officer,  in  time  of  peace,  may  camp  anywhere 
in  a  loyal  colony  like  Natal,  on  the  condition  thaHtis  only 
temporary;  but  the  danger  of  such  a  camp  as  this  is,  that 
stores  of  all  kinds  soon  become  enormously  valuable  as  they 
gather  day  after  day,  and  their  removal  is  very  serious  work. 


500  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

Even  if  a  camp  be  but  temporary,  I  am  of  the  opinion  that  it 
should  be  the  best  site  in  the  vicinity  and  the  easiest  defensi- 
ble, were  it  only  to  keep  alive  that  alertness  and  discipline 
which  is  necessary  in  war ;  but  this  Ladysmith  lies  at  the  mercy 
of  a  band  of  raiders,  and  if  a  body  of  Englishmen  can  be  found 
in  time  of  peace  raiding  into  a  country  at  peace  with  us,  it  is 
not  beyond  possibility  that  a  body  of  Boers  may  try  some  day 
to  imitate  us,  when  we  least  expect  it. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
FAREWELL  TO   PARLIAMENT 

LONDON,  Thursday,  May  19th,  1898.  Presided  at  Sir 
Alfred  Lyall's  lecture,  on  '  Chartered  Companies  and 
Colonization,'  before  the  Society  of  Arts.  _ 

I  have  always  a  feeling,  when  observing  an  audience  in  Eng- 
land, that  the  people  who  appear  to  be  listening  are  engaged 
upon  their  own  particular  thoughts.  I  have  sometimes  said  to 
myself,  '  Life  with  such  people  is  not  an  earnest  affair.  They 
have  come,  out  of  sheer  amiability,  or  to  tide  over  an  idle 
hour.  They  mechanically  smile,  and  do  not  mind  languidly 
applauding  when  someone  warns  them  it  is  time  to  do  so.' 

In  my  remarks  at  the  close  of  Sir  Alfred  Lyall's  lecture,  I 
took  the  opportunity  of  comparing  the  French  doings  at  the 
end  of  the  eighteenth  century  with  those  at  the  end  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  and  predicted  that  when  the  French 
appeared  on  the  White  Nile,  England  would  have  to  speak 
in  no  uncertain  voice  to  France,  or  all  our  toils  and  expense, 
since  1882,  in  Egypt  and  the  Soudan,  would  have  to  be  con- 
sidered wasted. 

My  earnest  words  roused  our  friends  a  little ;  then  Lord 
Brassey,  a  typical  Gladstonite,  thinking  I  might  lead  them 
over  to  France,  instanter,  poured  cold  water  upon  the  heat 
and  said,  '  You  know  it  is  only  Mr.  Stanley's  way ;  he  is  always 

combative!' 

Poor,  dear  old  England !  How  she  is  bothered  with  senti- 
mentalists and  cranks !  South  Africa  is  almost  lost,  because 
no  Englishman  in  office  dares  to  say  'Stop!  That  is  Eng- 
land's.' Yet,  if  Kruger  eventually  succeeds,  our  sea  route  to 
India,  Australia,  and  the  Isles  of  the  Indian  Ocean,  will  soon 

be  closed. 

If  the  French  establish  themselves  on  the  White  Nile,  they 
will  ally  themselves  with  the  Abyssinians,  and  soon  find  a  way 
of  re-arming  theMahdists;  and  it  would  not  be  long  then 


502  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

before  we  should  be  driven  out  of  Egypt,  and  clean  away 
from  the  Suez  Canal.   Well,  and  then? 

But  what  is  the  use?  A  cold  water  speech  from  Lord 
Brassey  quenches,  or  appears  to,  any  little  patriotic  ardour 
that  our  Society  Englishmen  confess  to  having  felt.  If  these 
people  were  to  be  consulted,  they  would  vote  for  making 
England  as  small  as  she  was  in  the  pre-Alfred  days,  on  condi- 
tion they  were  not  to  be  agitated. 

November  1st,  1898.  Am  gradually  gaining  strength  after 
the  illness  which  began  in  the  South  of  France,  August 
15th. 

The  long  weeks  in  bed  have  given  me  abundant  time  for 
thought,  and  I  have  decided  that  the  time  has  come  for  me  to 
seek  my  long-desired  rest.  It  has  become  clearer  to  me,  each 
day,  that  I  am  too  old  to  change  my  open-air  habits  for  the 
asphyxiating  atmosphere  of  the  House  of  Commons. 

Consequent  upon  this  Parliamentary  life  are  the  various 
petty  businesses  of  the  Constituency  I  represent ;  and  a  weary- 
ing correspondence  with  hundreds  of  people  I  am  unac- 
quainted with,  but  who  insist  on  receiving  replies.  This  cor- 
respondence, alone,  entails  a  good  three-hours'  work  each  day. 
The  demands  of  the  Constituents  consume,  on  an  average, 
another  two  hours.  The  House  opens  at  3  P.  M.,  and  business 
continues  to  any  hour  between  midnight  and  3  A.  M.  It  is 
therefore  impossible  to  obtain  air  or  exercise. 

Long  ago  the  House  of  Commons  had  lost  its  charm  for  me. 
It  does  not  approach  my  conception  of  it.  Its  business  is  con- 
ducted in  a  shilly-shally  manner,  which  makes  one  groan  at 
the  waste  of  life.  It  is  said  to  begin  at  3  p.  m.  Prayers  are  over 
at  3.10,  but  for  the  following  twenty  minutes  we  twiddle  our 
ringers;  and  then  commence  Questions,  which  last  over  an 
hour.  These  questions  are  mainly  from  the  Irish  Party,  and 
of  no  earthly  interest  to  anyone  except  themselves ;  but  even 
if  they  were,  the  Answers  might  be  printed  just  as  the  Ques- 
tions are ;  that  would  save  an  hour  for  the  business  of  debate. 
A  Member  soon  learns  how  wearying  is  debate.  Out  of  six 
hundred  and  seventy  members,  some  twenty  of  them  have 
taken  it  upon  themselves,  with  the  encouragement  and  per- 
mission of  the  Speaker,  to  debate  on  every  matter  connected 
with  the  Empire,  and  after  we  have  heard  their  voices  some 


FAREWELL  TO   PARLIAMENT  503 

fifty  times,  however  interesting  their  subjects  may  be,  it 
naturally  becomes  very  monotonous. 

Chamberlain,  however,  is  always  interesting,  because  there 
is  a  method  with  him  to  get  to  his  subject  at  once,  and  to  deal 
with  it  in  a  lucid,  straightforward  manner,  and  have  done 
with  it.  This  is  what  we  all  feel,  and  therefore  he  is  never 
tedious.  Also,  every  speech  Chamberlain  delivers  is  different, 
and  his  manner  varies ;  sometimes  it  is  quite  exciting,  a  mere 
steady  look,  suggestive  of  we  know  not  what,  gives  the  cue; 
sometimes  it  is  only  a  false  alarm ;  but  often  we  have  intense 
moments,  when  every  word  penetrates,  and  rouses  general 
enlivenment. 

Others  on  the  Front  Benches  are  not  very  interesting  in 
speech  or  matter,  excepting,  occasionally,  on  army  or  naval 
questions. 

I  could  name  a  dozen  others  who  are  too  often  allowed  to 
afflict  us  on  the  Unionist  side,  but  the  speakers  on  the  Oppo- 
sition side  are  permitted  even  greater  loquacity,  and  they 
really  are  terrible  bores.  Outside  the  House  they  are  mostly 
all  good  fellows,  but  in  the  House  they  have  no  sense  of  pro- 
portion, and  one  and  all  take  themselves  too  seriously.  Some 
of  them,  I  wish,  could  be  sent  to  the  Clock-Tower,  where  they 
could  wrangle  with  Big  Ben  to  their  hearts'  content.  Others 
would  be  more  esteemed  if  they  were  fettered  to  their  seats  and 
had  their  own  lips  locked,  while  a  few  are  so  bad  that  they 
should  be  sealed  tight  during  the  Session.  At  any  rate,  it  is 
clearly  no  place  for  me. 

The  House  was  very  full,  four  hundred  and  thirteen  Mem- 
bers voted ;  and,  of  course,  the  war  with  the  Transvaal  was  in 
even7  mind,  and  on  every  lip.  All  are  agreed  that  Kriiger's 
Ultimatum  has  been  specially  fortunate  for  the  Government ; 
for  it  has  been  easy  to  discover  that,  but  for  this  hot-headed 
outburst  of  the  Transvaal  Government,  the  general  distaste 
for  violent  and  strong  measures  would  have  severely  strained 
the  loyalty  of  the  Government's  supporters,  so  much  so, 
I  think,  that  I  doubt  whether  the  majority  would  have  been 
so  great  as  to  encourage  the  Government  to  formulate  the 
demands  which  the  necessity  of  the  case  required. 

While  listening  to  the  remarks  I  heard  on  all  sides  of  me  in 
the  Smoking-room,  it  appeared  to  me  that  the  saying  that 


504  HENRY   M.  STANLEY 

1  those  whom  the  gods  wish  to  destroy,  they  first  make  mad/ 
was  never  so  true  as  in  this  curious  lapse  of  a  Government  that, 
suddenly,  and  for  a  trifle,  throws  all  restraint  aside,  and 
becomes  possessed  of  the  most  reckless  fury.  In  his  secret 
heart  no  Member,  but  thinks,  after  his  own  fashion,  that  it  has 
been  due  to  an  interposition  of  Providence,  Fate,  Destiny,  call 
it  what  name  you  like.  I  gather  so  much  from  the  many  ways 
the  Members  express  their  astonishment  at  Kriiger  throwing 
down  the  gauntlet,  ending  the  discussion,  and  plunging  into 
war. 

It  has  been  a  long  duel  between  the  Colonial  Office  and 
Kriigerism;  successive  Secretaries  of  State,  since  1881,  have 
tried  their  best  to  get  the  vantage  over  the  old  Dutchman, 
and  have  either  failed  miserably,  or  have  just  been  able  to 
save  their  faces ;  but  Chamberlain,  after  four  years  of  ups  and 
downs,  at  one  time  almost  in  disgrace,  being  most  unfairly 
suspected  of  abetting  the  Raid,  and  always  verging  on  fail- 
ure, comes  out  of  the  duel  with  flying  colours,  through  the 
intractable  old  Dutchman  tiring  of  the  long,  wordy  contest. 

The  Irish  have  not  been  so  violent  as  we  expected  they 
intended  to  be.  We  heard  of  a  wish  to  be  suspended ;  but,  on 
the  whole,  they  have  been  tame :  though  Willie  Redmond  did 
not  spare  Chamberlain. 

Campbell- Bannerman  spoke  with  two  voices ;  in  the  first 
half  of  his  speech  he  talked  like  an  English  patriot,  in  the 
latter  half  he  seemed  to  have  reminded  himself  that  he  was 
the  Leader  of  the  Opposition,  and  showed  ill-nature.  Harcourt 
spoke  this  afternoon,  long  but  without  much  force.  In  fact, 
the  strings  of  the  Opposition  have  been  rendered  inutile  by 
Kriiger's  Ultimatum  to  England,  and  the  Boer  invasion.  The 
fact  that  we  are  at  war  checks  everybody,  and  disarms  them. 

July  26th,  1900.  To-day  has  been  my  last  sitting  in  Parlia- 
ment, for  I  have  paired  for  the  remainder  of  the  Session,  and 
Dissolution  is  very  probable  in  September  or  October. 

I  would  not  stand  again  for  much ! 

I  have  never  been  quite  free,  after  I  understood  the  Parlia- 
mentary machine,  from  a  feeling  that  it  degraded  me  some- 
what to  be  in  Parliament. 

I  have,  as  a  Member,  less  influence  than  the  man  in  the 
street.   On  questions  concerning  Africa,  Dilke,  or  some  other 


FAREWELL  TO   PARLIAMENT  505 

wholly  unacquainted  with  Africa,  would  be  called  upon  to 
speak  before  me.  I  have  far  less  influence  than  any  writer  in 
a  daily  newspaper;  for  he  can  make  his  living  presence  in 
the  world  felt,  and,  possibly,  have  some  influence  for  good : 
whereas  I,  in  common  with  other  respectable  fellows,  are  like 
dumb  dogs.  Yet  I  have,  nay  we  all  have,  had  to  pay  heavily 
for  the  hustling  we  get  in  the  House.  The  mention  of  our 
names  in  the  Press  draws  upon  us  scores  of  begging  letters, 
and  impertinent  door-to-door  beggars,  who,  sometimes,  by 
sheer  impudence,  effect  an  entrance  into  our  houses.  The  cor- 
respondence postage  alone  is  a  heavy  tax,  and  would  make  a 
handsome  provision  for  a  large  family  during  the  year.  The 
expenses  incident  to  Parliamentary  candidature  and  Parlia- 
mentary7 life  are  very7  heavy,  and,  in  my  opinion,  it  is  disgrace- 
ful that  a  Member  should  be  called  upon  to  subscribe  to  every 
church,  chapel,  sport,  bazaar,  sale,  etc.,  in  his  Constituency. 
But,  while  I  do  not  grieve  so  much  for  the  stupid  expense,  I 
do  begrudge  the  items  which  remind  me  of  the  annoying  beg- 
ging and  the  insolent  importunity,  that  impressed  me  with 
the  worthlessness  of  the  honour  of  being  a  Parliamentary 
representative.  Then,  when  I  think  of  the  uselessness  of  the 
expense,  the  labour  of  replying  to  the  daily  correspondence, 
the  time  wasted  in  it  all,  the  late  hours,  the  deadly  air,  the 
gradual  deterioration  of  health,  I  wonder  that  anyone  in  his 
sober  senses  should  consent  to  bother  himself  about  a  Parlia- 
mentary machine  controlled  as  is  this  of  ours.  Any  illusions 
that  I  may  have  had,  illusions  that  I  could  serve  the  Empire, 
advance  Africa's  interests,  benefit  this  country,  were  quickly 
dispelled.  The  Speaker's  eye  could  not  be  caught;  he  would 
call  on  some  glib  talker,  who  really  knew  very  little  of  his  sub- 
ject; and,  in  this  respect,  also,  I  felt  there  was  some  degrada- 
tion for  me,  sitting  there,  to  listen  to  such  futilities. 

Individually,  I  repeat,  the  Members  are  the  best  of  good 
fellows  in  the  Smoking-room ;  but  Parliamentary7  procedure 
needs  revising,  and  less  opportunity  should  be  given  to  those 
who  talk  only  for  talking' s  sake.  Anyhow,  I  am  glad  at  the 
prospect  of  retiring,  and  being  quit  of  it  all. 


CHAPTER  XXV 
FURZE   HILL 

IN  the  autumn  of  1898,  Stanley  decided  to  look  for  a  house  in 
the  country.  We  had  lived,  since  our  marriage,  at  2,  Richmond 
Terrace,  Whitehall,  close  to  the  Houses  of  Parliament  and 
Westminster  Abbey;  but  though  we  were  near  the  Thames  and 
St.  James  Park,  Stanley  naturally  felt  the  need  of  a  more  open-air 
life.  We  therefore  decided  to  have  a  country  retreat,  as  well  as  the 
home  in  town.    In  his  Journal,  November  1,  1898,  he  writes:  — 

To  live  at  all,  I  must  have  open  air,  and  to  enjoy  the  open 
air,  I  must  move  briskly.  I  but  wait  to  have  a  little  more 
strength,  when  I  can  begin  the  search  for  a  suitable  house, 
with  some  land  attached.  It  has  long  been  my  wish,  and  the 
mere  thought  of  having  come  to  a  decision,  that  it  is  impera- 
tive to  possess  such  a  thing,  before  it  is  too  late,  tends  towards 
the  improvement  of  my  health. 

Whatever  Stanley  undertook  was  thoroughly  done.  He  collected 
lists  of  most  of  the  House  and  Estate-agents,  cut  out  the  advertise- 
ments of  places  likely  to  suit,  sorted  them  according  to  localities, 
and  then  went  to  work  visiting  them  systematically.  In  his  Journal 
he  writes :  — 

Between  November  15th  and  30th,  I  have  seen  twenty 
places,  in  Kent,  Buckinghamshire,  Berkshire,  and  Sussex,  but 
found  nothing  suitable. 

In  the  photographs  and  descriptions  furnished  me  by  the 
House-agents,  several  of  them  looked  quite  inviting ,  but  often 
a  mere  glance  was  sufficient  to  turn  me  away  disgusted. 
There  was  not  a  house  which  might  be  said  to  possess  one 
decent-sized  room ;  those  D.  saw,  she  utterly  condemned. 

December  16th.  I  have  now  visited  fifty-seven  places !  Some 
few  I  reserved  for  a  second  visit  with  D.  At  last,  I  took  her  to 
see  Furze  Hill,  Pirbright,  Surrey,  and,  at  the  first  glance,  she 
said  it  was  delightful,  and  could  be  made  ideal.  The  more 
we  examined  it,  the  more  we  liked  it ;  but  there  was  much  to 
improve  and  renovate.    Therefore,  as  the  place  pleased  me 


>. 


-- 


FURZE    HILL  507 

and  my  wife  and  her  mother,  I  entered  into  serious  negotia- 
tions for  the  purchase,  and  by  Christmas,  I  had  secured  the 
refusal  of  it ;  but  as  it  was  let,  possession  was  deferred  to  the 
10th  of  June,  1899. 

Furze  Hill  is  not  more  than  thirty  miles  from  London,  but  it  is  in 
wild  and  lovely  country,  wild  and  lovely  because  kept  so,  by  the 
War  Department,  for  manoeuvring  grounds.  The  country  around 
mostly  consists  of  great  stretches  of  furze  and  heather,  which  are 
golden  and  purple  in  summer,  and  rough  pine  woods.  No  one  can 
buy  land  here,  or  build  ;  and  Furze  Hill  is  planted  in  this  beautiful 
wilderness,  just  a  house,  gardens,  a  few  fields,  a  wood,  and  a  quiet 
lake,  fed  by  a  little  stream. 

Furze  Hill  now  became  a  great  pleasure  and  occupation.  The  pur- 
chase of  furniture  occupied  us  all  the  spring  and  summer  of  1899. 
Stanley's  system  and  order  was  shewn  in  the  smallest  details.  He 
kept  lists  and  plans,  with  exact  measurements  of  every  room,  pas- 
sage, and  cupboard. 

On  June  10th,  he  notes  in  his  Journal :  — 

I  have  concluded  the  purchase  and  become  the  owner  of 
Furze  Hill ;  building  operations  have  already  begun  for  the 
purpose  of  adding  a  new  wing  to  the  house, 

Stanley  also  commenced  installing  an  electric  lighting  plant,  and  a 
very  complete  fire-engine.  From  the  lake,  which  I  called  '  Stanley 
Pool,' ■  he  pumped  water  to  fill  great  tanks,  the  engine  which  drove 
the  dynamo  driving  both  pump  and  fire  engine.  On  September  4th, 
he  notes,  '  went  with  D.  to  our  House  at  Furze  Hill.  Slept  for  the 
first  time  at  our  country  home.'  He  now  took  an  ever-increasing 
delight  in  the  place.  He  planned  walks,  threw  bridges  across  streams, 
planted  trees,  built  a  little  farm  from  his  own  designs,  after  reading 
every  recent  book  on  farm-building,  and  in  a  very  short  time  trans- 
formed the  place. 

Everything  Stanley  planned  and  executed  was  to  last,  to  be 
strong,  and  permanent.  He  replaced  the  wooden  window-frames 
by  stone ;  the  fences  were  of  the  strongest  and  best  description  ;  even 
the  ends  of  the  gate  and  fence-posts,  he  had  dipped  in  pitch,  and  not 
merely  in  tar,  that  the  portion  in  the  ground  might  resist  decay.  It 
was  his  pride  and  his  joy  that  all  should  be  well  done.  And  so,  at  last, 
peace  and  enjoyment  came  to  Stanley,  and  he  was  quietly  happy, 
till  the  last  great  trial  came.  Those  who  knew  him  there,  will  never 
forget  the  Stanley  who  revealed  himself  in  that  happy  intimacy, 

1  Our  little  wood  I  called  the  Aruwimi  Forest.  A  stream  was  named  the  Congo. 
To  the  fields  I  gave  such  African  names  as  '  Wanyamwezi.'  '  Mazamboni,'  '  Katunzi,' 
'  Luwamberri,'  etc.  One  side  of  Stanley  Pool  is  '  Umfwa,'  the  other  '  Kinchassa,'  and 
1  Calino  point.'  Stanley  was  amused  at  my  fancy,  and  adopted  the  names  to  designate 
the  spots.  — D.  S. 


508  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

those  strolls  through  the  woods  and  fields,  those  talks  on  the  lawn, 
when  we  sat  round  the  tea-table  and  listened  to  Stanley,  till  the  dusk 
fell  softly ;  those  wonderful  evenings,  by  the  library  fire,  when  he 
told  us  stories  of  Africa  with  such  vivid  force,  that  I  never  heard  him 
without  a  racing  heart,  and  quickened  breath !  No  one  who  ever 
heard  Stanley  '  tell  a  story '  could  possibly  forget  it !  Only  the  other 
day,  Richard  Harding  Davis  wrote  to  me,  '  Never  shall  I  forget  one 
late  afternoon  when  Stanley,  in  the  gathering  darkness,  told  us  the 
story  of  Gordon ! ' 

Stanley,  however,  was  not  always  to  be  drawn ;  sometimes,  there- 
fore, I  resorted  to  subterfuge,  that  I  might  lure  him  on.  I  would 
begin  his  stories  all  wrong,  make  many  mistakes  on  purpose,  know- 
ing his  love  of  accuracy,  till  he  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and,  brushing 
my  halting  words  aside,  he  would  plunge  in,  and  swing  along  with 
the  splendid  narrative  to  the  end. 

We  were  very  happy  now!  Building,  planting,  sowing,  reaping. 
We  called  Furze  Hill  the  '  Bride,'  and  we  competed  in  decking  her, 
and  making  her  gifts.  Stanley  gave  the  Bride  a  fine  Broadwood 
piano,  and  a  billiard  table.  I  gave  her  a  new  orchard.  Stanley  gave 
her  a  bathing-house  and  canoes.    I  gave  her  roses. 

_  One  day  Stanley  told  me  that  a  case  full  of  books  had  just  ar- 
rived, which  we  could  unpack  together  in  the  evening.  The  case 
was  opened^  and  I  greatly  rejoiced  at  the  prospect  of  book-shelves 
crammed  with  thrilling  novels,  and  stories  of  adventure.  Stanley 
carefully  removed  the  layers  of  packing-paper,  and  then  commenced 
handing  out  .  .  .  translations  of  the  Classics,  Euripides,  Xenophon 
again,  Thucydides,  Polybius,  Herodotus,  Caesar,  Homer;  piles  of 
books  on  architecture,  on  landscape  gardening,  on  house  decoration ; 
books  on  ancient  ships,  on  modern  ship-building.  '  Not  a  book  for 
me!'  I  exclaimed  dismally.  Next  week,  another  case  arrived,  and 
this  time  all  the  standard  fiction,  and  many  new  books,  were  ranged 
on  shelves  awaiting  them. 

Stanley's  appetite  for  work  in  one  shape  or  another  was  insatiable, 
and  the  trouble  he  took  was  always  a  surprise,  even  to  me.  Nothing 
he  undertook  was  done  in  a  half-and-half  way.  I  have  now  the  sheets 
upon  sheets  of  plans  he  drew,  of  the  little  farm  at  Furze  Hill,  every 
measurement  carefully  made  to  scale,  and  the  cost  of  each  item, 
recorded,  on  the  margin. 

And  so  he  was  happy,  for  his  joy  lay  in  the  doing. 

In  this  year,  1899,  Stanley  was  created  G.  C.  B. 

How  little  any,  but  his  few  intimate  friends,  knew  of  Stanley! 
Others  might  guess,  but  they  could  not  realise  what  of  tenderness, 
gentleness,  and  emotion,  lay  behind  that,  seemingly,  impenetrable 
reserve. 

As  an  instance  of  the  curious  ignorance  existing  regarding  the  real 
Stanley,  I  will  tell  an  anecdote,  both  laughable  and  pathetic. 


FURZE   HILL  509 

A  short  time  after  my  marriage,  I  went  to  tea  with  a  dear  old 
friend.  After  talking  of  many  things,  my  friend  suddenly  put  her 
hand  impressively  on  mine  and  said,  'Would  you  mind  my  asking 
you  a  question,  for,  somehow,  I  cannot  help  feeling  —  well  —  just 
a  little  troubled?  It  may,  in  some  mysterious  way,  have  been 
deemed  expedient;  but  why  — oh,  why  —  did  your  husband  order 
a  little  black  baby  to  be  flung  into  the  Congo ! '  The  dear  good 
lady  had  tears  in  her  eyes,  as  she  adjured  me  to  explain!  Indigna- 
tion at  first  made  me  draw  away  from  her,  but  then  the  ridiculous 
absurdity  of  her  story  struck  me  so  forcibly,  I  began  to  laugh,  and 
the  more  I  laughed,  the  more  pained  and  bewildered  was  my  friend. 
4  You  believed  that  story  ? '  I  asked.  '  You  could  believe  it? '  '  Well,' 
she  replied,  '  I  was  told  it,  as  a  fact.' 

When  I  repeated  it  to  Stanley,  he  smiled  and  threw  out  his  hand. 
'There,  you  see  now  why  I  am  silent  and  reserved.  .  .  .  Would  you 
have  me  reply  to  such  a  charge? '  And  then  he  told  me  the  story  of 
the  little  black  baby  in  Central  Africa. 

As  the  expedition  advanced,  we  generally  found  villages 
abandoned,  scouts  having  warned  the  natives  of  our  approach. 
The  villagers,  of  course,  were  not  very  far  off,  and,  as  soon 
as  the  expedition  had  passed,  they  stole  back  to  their  huts 
and  plantations.  On  one  occasion,  so  great  had  been  their 
haste,  a  black  baby  of  a  few  months  old  was  left  on  the  ground, 
forgotten. 

They  brought  the  little  thing  to  me;  it  was  just  a  gobbet  of 
fat,  with  large,  innocent  eyes.  Holding  the  baby,  I  turned  to 
my  officers  and  said  in  chaff,  '  Well,  boys,  what  shall  we  do 
with  it?'  '  Oh  !  sir,'  one  wag  cried,  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his 
eye,  '  throw  it  into  the  Congo !'  Whereupon  they  all  took  up 
the  chorus,  'Throw  it,  throw  it,  throw7  it  into  the  Congo!' 
We  were  all  in  high  boyish  spirits  that  day ! 

I  should  rather  have  liked  to  take  the  baby  on  with  me,  and 
would  have  done  so,  had  I  thought  it  was  abandoned ;  but  I 
felt  sure  the  mother  was  not  far  off,  and  might,  even  then, 
be  watching  us,  with  beating  heart,  from  behind  a  tree.  So 
I  ordered  a  fire  to  be  kindled,  as  the  infant  was  small  and 
chilly,  and  I  had  a  sort  of  cradle-nest  scooped  out  of  the  earth, 
beside  the  fire,  so  that  the  little  creature  could  be  warm,  shel- 
tered, and  in  no  danger  of  rolling  in.  I  lined  the  concavity 
with  cotton-cloth,  as  a  gift  to  the  mother;  and  when  we  left 
that  encampment,  the  baby  was  sleeping  as  snugly  as  if  with 
its  mother  beside  it,  and  I  left  them  a  good  notion  for  cradles ! 


5io  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

Many  children  were  born  during  the  march  of  the  Emin  Relief 
Expedition ;  at  one  time  there  were  over  forty  babies  in  camp !  The 
African  mothers  well  knew  that  their  little  ones'  safety  lay  with 
'  Bwana  Kuba,'  the  'Great  Master.' 

When  the  expedition  emerged  from  the  Great  Forest,  a  report 
got  about  that  the  expedition  was  shortly  to  encounter  a  tribe  of 
cannibals.  That  night  Stanley  retired  to  rest  early,  and  soon  fell 
asleep,  for  he  was  very  exhausted.  In  the  middle  of  the  night,  he 
was  wakened  by  a  vague  plaint,  the  cry,  as  he  thought,  of  some  wild 
animal.  The  wail  was  taken  up  by  others,  and  soon  the  air  was  filled 
by  cat-like  miaouls.  Greatly  puzzled,  Stanley  sat  up,  and  then  he 
heard  slappings  and  howlings.  Thereupon,  he  arose  and  strode  out, 
to  find  forty  or  so  infants,  carefully  rolled  up,  and  laid  round  his 
tent  by  the  anxious  mothers !  Bula  M atari,  they  said  to  themselves, 
would  never  allow  the  dreadful  cannibals  to  eat  their  little  ones,  so 
they  agreed  together  that  the  night-nursery  must  be  as  close  as  pos- 
sible to  the  Great  Master's  tent!  This,  however,  was  forbidden  in 
future,  as  it  made  rest  impossible. 

Here  is  another  baby-story,  Stanley  told  me.  One  of  his  men  was 
an  Egyptian,  rather  a  sullen  fellow ;  I  think  his  name  was  Selim.  His 
wife,  a  pleasant  young  woman,  died  during  the  march,  leaving  a  little 
yellow-faced  baby.  The  father  now  had  to  carry  the  child,  as  well 
as  his  gun ;  Stanley  afterwards  heard  that  this  caused  the  man 
great  dissatisfaction.  One  evening,  going  his  usual  round  amongst 
the  men,  he  saw  Selim's  little  boy,  the  child  with  the  sallow  face,  and 
large,  mournful  eyes,  sitting  rather  apart,  as  though  overlooked. 

The  next  day,  Stanley  sent  for  Selim's  baby,  and  there  on  a  mat 
at  his  tent  door,  the  child  sat  and  gazed  solemnly  at  the  '  Great  Mas- 
ter.' Every  day,  after  the  tents  were  put  up,  the  child  was  brought 
to  the  tent  door,  and  Stanley  took  pleasure  in  his  company. 

He  told  me,  that  as  the  baby  gazed  at  him  with  its  grave  eyes,  he 
would  open  his  own  very  wide,  and  make  grimaces ;  whereupon  the 
little  fellow  would  faintly  smile  and  put  his  finger  in  his  mouth, 
and  Stanley  did  the  same.  'I  had  no  end  of  fun  with  him,'  he 
told  me. 

Some  weeks  later,  Stanley  was  informed  that  Selim  was  a  lgoee- 
goee,'  a  lazy  fellow,  and  that  he  had  thrown  his  gun  away.  This  was 
grave  news,  since  the  safety  of  the  expedition  depended  on  their 
being  able  to  defend  themselves.  Selim  was  severely  punished,  and 
the  expedition  continued  its  difficult  progress  through  the  Great 
Forest. 

Then,  Stanley,  not  seeing  the  yellow  baby  for  a  day  or  two,  en- 
quired what  had  become  of  him.  'Alas!  master,'  was  the  report, 
4  Selim  got  tired  of  carrying  his  boy,  so  he  left  him  in  the  Forest, 
three  marches  back.'  Left  him  to  inevitable  death,  for  the  hungry 
aborigines  of  the  Forest  must  have  got  the  child  soon  after  the 
expedition  had  swept  past!  Stanley  was  much  grieved.  'I  would 
willingly  have  had  the  boy  carried,  had  I  but  known.' 


FURZE  HILL  511 

The  next  week  it  was  reported  that  Selim  was  attacked  by  the 
fatal  indisposition  of  '  sitting  down.'  He  did  not  appear  ill,  but  he 
was,  perhaps,  more  than  usually  sullen,  and  refused  to  march.  Hustled, 
urged,  threatened,  they  got  him  on  for  a  day  or  two,  and  then  he 
disappeared:  he  had  run  into  the  depths  of  the  Forest,  to  sit  down 
and  die.  Stanley  halted  the  expedition,  search  was  made,  but  Selim 
had  gone  for  ever! 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
THE   CLOSE   OF   LIFE 

THE  year  1903  found  Stanley  very  busy  making  further 
improvements,  building,  and  planting.  The  house  at  Furze 
Hill,  in  1900,  had  practically  been  rebuilt  by  him;  every 
year  he  added  something,  and  all  was  done  in  his  own  way,  per- 
fectly and  thoroughly;  even  the  builders  learnt  from  him.  After 
Stanley's  death,  the  builder  asked  to  see  me.  '  I  came  that  I 
might  tell  you  how  much  I  owe  to  Sir  Henry ;  even  in  my  own  line 
he  taught  me,  he  made  me  more  thorough,  more  conscientious. 
Would  you  have  any  objection  to  my  calling  my  house  after  his 
African  name?' 

In  November,  1902,  Stanley  began  drawing  plans  for  enlarging 
the  hall,  drawing-room,  and  other  rooms.  He  made  careful  mea- 
sured drawings,  to  scale.  The  hall  was  enlarged  for  a  billiard  table 
and  upraised  seats.  We  could  neither  of  us  play,  but  he  said,  '  I  want 
those  who  come  to  stay  here,  to  enjoy  themselves.' 

The  nursery  was  to  have  a  terraced  balcony,  built  over  the  hall, 
and  all  this  was  done  through  the  winter  months,  Stanley  con- 
stantly there  to  superintend.  When  the  building  was  finished,  he 
alone  saw  to  the  decorating  and  furnishing,  as  it  was  all  to  be  a 
surprise  for  me. 

In  March,  1903,  Stanley  first  complained  of  momentary  attacks 
of  giddiness ;  it  made  me  rather  uneasy,  so  I  accompanied  him  every- 
where. 

Just  before  Easter,  we  were  walking  near  the  Athenaeum  Club, 
when  he  swayed  and  caught  my  arm.  My  anxiety,  though  still 
vague,  oppressed  me,  and  I  was  very  unwilling  to  let  him  go  alone 
to  Furze  Hill ;  but  he  insisted,  as  he  said  there  were  yet  a  few  '  fin- 
ishing touches  to  put,'  before  we  came  down  for  Easter. 

Great  was  my  relief  when  we  were  summoned  to  Furze  Hill; 
everything  was  ready  at  last! 

And  there  he  stood  at  the  entrance  to  welcome  us!  He  looked 
so  noble  and  radiant!  He  took  me  round,  and  showed  me  the  new 
rooms,  the  fresh  decorations  and  furnishings,  all  chosen  by  himself ; 
but  —  beautiful  as  everything  seemed  —  it  was  just  Stanley,  he 
who  had  conceived  and  carried  out  all  this  for  my  enjoyment,  it 
was  Stanley  himself  I  was  all  the  time  admiring. 

He  had  thought  of  everything,  even  'fancy  trifles,'  as  he  called 
the  delicate  vases,  and  enamelled  jars  on  the  mantelpieces  and 
brackets. 


THE   CLOSE  OF   LIFE  513 

There  was  a  new  marble  mantelpiece  in  the  drawing-room,  deco- 
rated with  sculptured  cupids,  'because  we  both  love  babies,'  he 
said.  Stanley  had  even  replenished  the  store-room,  fitted  it  up  as 
for  an  expedition,  or  to  stand  a  siege.  There  were  great  canisters  of 
rice,  tapioca,  flour  enough  for  a  garrison,  soap,  cheese,  groceries 
of  all  kinds,  everything  we  could  possibly  require,  and  each  jar  and 
tin  was  neatly  ticketed  in  his  handwriting,  besides  careful  lists, 
written  in  a  store-book,  so  that  I  might  know,  at  a  glance,  the 
goodly  contents  of  the  room. 

Those  fifteen  days  were  wonderfully  happy,  and  the  light  shining 
in  Stanley's  eyes  gave  me  deep  inward  peace;  but  it  was  short-lived, 
for,  on  April  the  15th,  the  giddiness  returned;  and  in  the  night  of 
the  17th,  the  blow  fell,  and  the  joy  that  had  been,  could  never  come 
again. 

Stanley  awakened  me  by  a  cry,  and  I  found  he  was  without 
speech,  his  face  drawn,  and  his  body  paralysed  on  the  left  side. 

Xo  sooner  had  the  doctors  withdrawn,  that  first  terrible  morn- 
ing, than  he  made  me  understand  that  he  wished  to  be  propped  up 
in  bed.  Now,  absolute  quiet  had  been  strictly  enjoined,  as  Stanley 
was  only  partially  conscious,  but  he  always  expected  to  be  obeyed, 
and  to  have  thwarted  him  at  such  a  time  would,  I  feared,  only 
have  agitated  him.  I  therefore  raised  and  supported  him,  and  then 
he  made  me  understand  that  he  must  shave!  I  fetched  his  razors, 
brush,  soap,  and  water;  I  prepared  the  lather,  which  he  applied  him- 
self with  trembling  hand,  the  only  hand  he  could  use;  and  then  with 
eyes  blood-shot,  his  noble  face  drawn,  his  mind  dazed,  but  his  will 
still  indomitable,  Stanley  commenced  shaving.  I  held  his  cheek  and 
chin  for  him ;  he  tried  to  see  himself  in  the  mirror  I  held,  but  his 
eyes  could  not  focus,  nevertheless  he  succeeded  in  shaving  clean ! 

Some  days  after,  when  he  had  recovered  complete  consciousness 
and  speech,  I  found  he  had  no  recollection  of  having  shaved.  I 
give  this  account  as  a  typical  instance  of  Stanley's  self-control  and 
resolution.  He  had  often  told  me  that,  on  his  various  expeditions, 
he  had  made  it  a  rule,  always  to  shave  carefully.  In  the  Great  For- 
est, in  'Starvation  Camp,'  on  the  mornings  of  battle,  he  had  never 
neglected  this  custom,  however  great  the  difficulty;  he  told  me  he 
had  often  shaved  with  cold  water,  or  with  blunt  razors :  but  '  I  always 
presented  as  decent  an  appearance  as  possible,  both  for  self-disci- 
pline and  for  self-respect,  and  it  was  also  necessary  as  chief  to  do  so.' 

Months  passed ;  spring,  summer,  autumn,  Stanley  lay  there,  stead- 
fast, calm,  uncomplaining;  never,  by  word  or  sigh,  did  he  express 
grief  or  regret.  He  submitted  grandly,  and  never  seemed  to  me 
greater,  or  more  courageous,  than  throughout  that  last  year  of 
utter  helplessness  and  deprivation. 

Stanley,  the  very  embodiment  of  proud  independence,  was  as 
weak  and  helpless  as  a  little  child ! 

But  I  had  him  still.  I  felt  that  nothing  in  the  whole  world  sig- 
nified since  I  had  him  still ;  and  as  I  looked  at  his  grand  head  lying 


5i4  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

on  the  pillows,  I  felt  I  could  be  happy  in  a  new  and  more  supreme 
way,  if  only  I  need  not  give  him  up. 

Soon,  I  learnt  to  lift  him,  with  someone  just  to  support  his  feet; 
but  it  was  I,  and  I  alone,  who  held  him;  at  times,  I  had  a  sort  of 
illusion  that  I  was  holding  him  back  from  Death !  Coleridge  wrote 
to  his  friend  T.  Poole,  '  I  have  a  sort  of  sensation,  as  if,  while  I  was 
present,  none  could  die  whom  I  intensely  loved.' 

And  so,  although  the  careless  confidence  of  joy  was  gone,  I  had 
the  holy,  deep  exaltation  arising  from  the  feeling  that  he  was  there, 
with  me. 

He  got  somewhat  better  as  time  passed,  and  spent  the  greater 
part  of  the  day  on  the  lawn,  in  an  invalid-chair.  His  friend,  Henry 
Wellcome,  came  every  week  to  sit  with  him,  thus  breaking  the 
monotony  of  the  unchanging  days.  By  September,  Stanley  com- 
menced to  stand,  and  to  walk  a  few  steps,  supported ;  speech  had 
returned,  but  close  attention  quickly  wearied  him,  and  fatigue  fol- 
lowed any  attempt  at  physical  or  mental  effort. 

He  would  say,  that  as  the  stroke  had  fallen  so  suddenly,  he  hoped 
it  might  as  suddenly  be  lifted :  '  I  shall  get  the  message,  it  may  come 
in  the  night,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  and  then  lo !  I  shall  walk,' 

The  message  came.  It  came  in  the  final  liberation,  in  the  freeing 
from  this  mechanism  of  earth ;  and  Stanley  waited,  grandly  calm, 
never  assuming  a  cheerfulness  he  could  not  feel,  his  deeply-ingrained 
truthfulness  made  that  impossible;  but  he  kept  a  lofty  attitude  of 
submission,  he  was  ever  a  commander,  a  leader  of  men,  Bula  Ma- 
tari,  the  Rock-Breaker,  who  had  every  courage,  even  to  this  last. 

In  the  late  autumn  of  1903,  we  returned  to  London,  and  there 
had  some  months  of  not  unhappy  reprieve.  I  read  aloud  to  him, 
and  we  sat  together  in  great  peace.  We  did  not  talk  of  the  life  to 
come,  nor  of  religion ;  Stanley  had  lived  his  religion,  and  disliked 
conjectural  talk  of  the  future  life;  he  believed  in  a  life  everlasting, 
but  if  ever  I  spoke  of  it,  he  dismissed  the  subject,  saying,  '  Ah !  now 
you  go  beyond  me.' 

At  Easter  in  1904,  Stanley  wished  to  return  to  Furze  Hill,  so  we 
went  there  towards  the  end  of  March.  The  change  did  him  good, 
he  was  hopeful,  believing  himself  better;  but  on  the  17th  of  April, 
the  very  anniversary  of  his  first  attack,  he  was  smitten  again,  this 
time  by  pleurisy,  and  suffered  very  much.  He  now  became  most 
anxious  to  return  to  London,  and,  on  the  27th,  was  taken  by  ambu- 
lance-carriage to  town. 

As  the  pleurisy  subsided,  he  revived ;  and  one  day  he  said  to  me, 
'  I  shall  soon  walk  now,  it  is  all  passing  from  me.'  I  think  he  really 
meant  he  might  recover,  I  do  not  think  he  was  speaking  of  his  ap- 
proaching death ;  but,  after  a  pause,  he  said,  '  Where  will  you  put 
me?'  Then,  seeing  that  I  did  not  understand,  he  added,  'When  I 
am  —  gone?  ' 

I  said,  '  Stanley,  I  want  to  be  near  you ;  but  they  will  put  your 
body  in  Westminster  Abbey.' 


THE   CLOSE  OF   LIFE  515 

He  smiled  lovingly  at  me,  and  replied,  '  Yes,  where  we  were  mar- 
ried ;  they  will  put  me  beside  Livingstone';  then,  after  a  pause,  he 
added,  4  because  it  is  right  to  do  so ! ' 

A  few  days  later,  he  put  out  his  hand  to  me  and  said,  '  Good-bye. 
dear,  I  am  going  very  soon,  I  have  —  done!' 

On  May  the  3d,  Stanley  became  lethargic;  but  he  roused  him- 
self at  times.  Our  little  boy  came  in  and  gently  kissed  Stanley's 
hand;  this  wakened  him,  and,  as  he  stroked  Denzil's  cheek,  the 
child  said,  'Father,  are  you  happy?'  —  'Always,  when  I  see  you, 
dear,'  he  replied. 

Mr.  Wellcome  came  daily;  once  Stanley  roused  himself  to  talk 
to  him  of  his  dear  officer,  Mounteney  Jephson,  who  was  very  ill  at 
the  time. 

The  struggle  of  life  and  death  commenced  on  the  5th  of  May, 
and  lasted  long,  so  great  was  Stanley's  energy  and  vitality.  Day 
followed  night,  night  followed  day,  and  he  lay  still,  —  sometimes 
quite  conscious,  but  most  of  the  time  in  a  deep  dream. 

On  the  last  night,  the  night  of  Monday,  the  9th  of  May,  his  mind 
wandered.  He  said,  '  I  have  done  —  all  —  my  work  —  I  have  — 
circumnavigated  '  —  Then,  later,  with  passionate  longing,  he  cried, 
1  Oh  !  I  want  to  be  free !  —  I  want  to  go  —  into  the  woods  —  to  be 
free ! ' 

Towards  dawn,  he  turned  his  noble  head  to  me,  and,  looking  up 
at  me,  said,  '  I  want  —  I  want  —  to  go  home.' 

At  three  A.  M.,  he  moved  his  hand  on  to  mine,  looking  at  me  quite 
consciously,  and  gave  me  his  last  message :  '  Good-night,  dear ;  go  to 
bed,  darling.' 

As  four  o'clock  sounded  from  Big  Ben,  Stanley  opened  his  eyes 
and  said,  'What  is  that?'  I  told  him  it  was  four  o'clock  striking. 
'  Four  o'clock?'  he  repeated  slowly ;  '  how  strange!  So  that  is  Time! 
Strange!'  A  little  later,  seeing  that  he  was  sinking,  I  brought  stimu- 
lant to  his  lips,  but  he  put  up  his  hand  gently,  and  repelled  the  cup, 
saying,  '  Enough.' 

Then,  as  six  o'clock  rang  out,  Stanley  left  me,  and  was  admitted 
into  the  nearer  Presence  of  God. 

On  Tuesday,  May  17th,  Stanley's  body  was  carried  to  Westmin- 
ster Abbey.  The  coffin  lay  before  the  altar  where  we  were  mar- 
ried, and  the  Funeral  Service  was  read,  after  which  Henry  Morton 
Stanley,  that  man  of  men,  was  buried  in  the  village  churchyard  of 
Pirbright,  Surrey. 

But  history  will  remember  that  it  was  the  Rev.  Joseph  Armitage 
Robinson,  Dean  of  Westminster,  who  refused  to  allow  Stanley  to  be 
buried  in  Westminster  Abbey ! 

Xow,  however,  I  am  able  to  quote  Sir  George  Grey's  words,  and 
say :  — 

'  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  is  best  that  the  matter  should  stand 
thus.  Yet  one  thing  was  wanting  to  render  the  great  drama  complete ; 
would  the  man  who  had  done  all  this,  and  supported  such  various 


516  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

trials,  be  subjected  to  cold  neglect  for  what  he  had  accomplished? 
And  I  sit  here,  not  lamenting,  but  with  a  feeling  that  all  has  taken 
place  for  the  best,  and  that  this  absence  of  national  recognition  will 
only  add  an  interest  to  Stanley's  history  in  future  years.' 

'He  is  gone  who  seem'd  so  great.  — 
Gone;  but  nothing  can  bereave  him 
Of  the  force  he  made  his  own 
Being  here,  and  we  believe  him 
Something  far  advanced  in  State, 
And  that  he  wears  a  truer  crown 
Than  any  wreath  that  man  can  weave  him.' 

I  wished  to  find  some  great  monolith,  to  mark  Stanley's  grave; 
a  block  of  granite,  fashioned  by  the  ages,  and  coloured  by  time. 

Dartmoor  was  searched  for  me,  by  Mr.  Edwards  of  the  Art 
Memorial  Company;  he  visited  Moreton,  Chagford  Gidleigh,  Wal- 
labrook,  Teigncombe,  Castor,  Hemstone,  Thornworthy,  etc.,  etc.; 
and,  amid  thousands  of  stones,  none  fulfilled  all  my  requirements. 
The  river  stones  were  too  round,  those  on  the  moor  were  too  irreg- 
ular, or  too  massive. 

Owners  of  moorland  farms,  and  tenants,  took  the  keenest  interest 
in  the  search ;  and,  at  last,  a  great  granite  monolith  was  discovered 
on  Frenchbeer  farm ;  its  length  was  twelve  feet,  the  width  four  feet. 

The  owner  and  tenant  gave  their  consent  to  its  removal,  only 
stipulating  that  a  brass-plate  should  be  fixed  to  a  smaller  stone, 
stating  that  from  that  spot  was  removed  the  stone  which  now  stands 
at  the  head  of  Stanley's  grave.  The  smaller  stones  which  form  the 
boundary  of  the  enclosure  were  found  quite  near. 

The  following  short  account  of  this  great  headstone  to  Stanley's 
grave  was  printed  at  the  time :  — 

1  These  moorland  stones  are  for  the  great  part  recumbent.  The  few 
which  stand  to-day  were  raised  as  memorials  to  chieftains;  others 
form  circles,  huts,  and  avenues,  and  remain  to  us  the  silent  wit- 
nesses of  a  race,  of  whose  history  we  know  so  little.  Whatever  their 
past  history  may  be,  it  seems  fitting  that  one  should  be  raised  in  our 
time  to  this  great  African  leader.  It  has  now  a  definite  work  to  do, 
and  for  ages  yet  to  come,  will  bear  the  name  of  that  great  son  to 
whom  the  wilds  of  Dartmoor  were  as  nothing,  compared  with  that 
vast  continent  which  he  opened  up,  and  whose  name  will  live,  not 
by  this  memorial,  but  as  one  of  the  great  Pioneers  of  Christianity, 
Civilization,  and  Hope  to  that  dark  land  of  Africa.' 

After  much  labour,  the  great  stone,  weighing  six  tons,  was  trans- 
ported to  Pirbright  churchyard,  where  it  now  stands,  imperishable 
as  the  name,  cut  deep  into  its  face. 

I  desired  to  record  simply  his  name,  '  Henry  Morton  Stanley,'  and 
beneath  it,  his  great  African  name,  '  Bula  Matari,'  For  epitaph,  the 
single  word  'Africa,'  and  above  all,  the  Emblem  and  Assurance  of 
Life  Everlasting,  the  Cross  of  Christ. 


I! :- 


kflAttft 


■~l£-"~~ " 


5i 8  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

sion  to  His  will ;  for  more  understanding  to  comprehend  what 
is  pleasing  to  Him,  for  more  gentleness ;  for  moral  strength  to 
combat  that  which  my  sense  assures  me  is  evil,  and  unworthy 
of  one  endowed  with  such  attributes  as  belong  to  me,  I  will 
keep  ever  striving  to  perform  acts  pleasing  to  Him,  while  I 
have  the  power,  leaving  it  to  Him  to  judge  whether  my  en- 
deavours to  abstain  from  evil,  and  perform  that  which  was 
right,  have  been  according  to  the  intelligence  and  moral 
power  He  entrusted  me  with.  Meantime,  I  must  keep  my- 
self open  to  conviction,  so  that  whenever  it  shall  be  my  good 
fortune  to  light  upon  that  which  will  clearly  inform  me  as  to 
the  exact  way  to  serve  and  please  God,  it  will  be  possible  for 
me  to  conform ;  and  I  must  by  no  means  offend  Him  by  negli- 
gence in  doing  that  which  I  know  ought  to  be  done. 

ON   THE   INFLUENCE   OF   RELIGION 

To  relate  a  little  of  the  instances  in  my  life  wherein  I  have 
been  grateful  for  the  delicate  monitions  of  an  inner  voice, 
recalling  me,  as  it  were,  to  'my  true  self,'  it  would  be  difficult 
for  me  to  do  their  importance  justice.  I,  for  one,  must  not, 
dare  not,  say  that  prayers  are  inefficacious.  Where  I  have 
been  earnest,  I  have  been  answered. 

What  have  these  earnest  prayers  consisted  of,  mainly? 

I  have  repeated  the  Lord's  Prayer  a  countless  number  of 
times;  but,  I  must  confess,  my  thoughts  have  often  wandered 
from  the  purport  of  the  words.  But  when  I  have  prayed  for 
light  to  guide  my  followers  wisely  through  perils  which  beset 
them,  a  ray  of  light  has  come  upon  the  perplexed  mind,  and 
a  clear  road  to  deliverance  has  been  pointed  out. 

In  the  conduct  of  the  various  expeditions  into  Africa, 
prayer  for  patience,  which  bespoke  more  than  an  ordinary 
desire  for  patience,  has  enabled  me  to  view  my  savage  oppo- 
nents in  a  humorous  light ;  sometimes,  with  infinite  compas- 
sion for  their  madness ;  sometimes,  with  a  belief  that  it  would 
be  a  pity  to  punish  too  severely;  and,  sometimes,  with  that 
contempt  which  I  would  bestow  upon  a  pariah  dog.  Patience 
has  been  granted  to  me,  and  I  have  left  them  storming  madly. 
Without  the  prayer  for  it,  I  doubt  that  I  could  have  endured 
the  flourish  of  the  spears  when  they  were  but  half-a-dozen 
paces  off. 


THOUGHTS   FROM    NOTE-BOOKS  519 

When  my  own  people  have  wilfully  misbehaved,  after  re- 
peated warnings,  I  have  prayed  for  that  patience  which  would 
enable  me  to  regard  their  crimes  with  mercy,  and  that  my 
memory  of  their  gross  wickedness  should  be  dulled  ;  and,  after 
the  prayer,  it  has  appeared  to  me  that  their  crimes  had  lost 
the  atrocity  that  I  had  previously  detected  in  them.  When 
oft-repeated  instances  of  the  efficacy  of  prayer  were  remem- 
bered, I  have  marvelled  at  the  mysterious  subtleness  with 
which  the  answer  has  been  delivered. 

'Lord  God,  give  me  my  people,  and  let  me  lead  them  in 
safety7  to  their  homes;  then  do  Thou  with  me  as  Thou  wilt,' 
was  my  prayer  the  night  preceding  the  day  the  remnant  of 
the  Rear-Column  was  found.  True,  they  were  there,  they  had 
not  moved  since  July  17th;  but  I  did  not  know  it. 

'Give  my  people  back  to  me,  O  Lord.  Remember  that 
we  are  Thy  creatures,  though  our  erring  nature  causes  us 
to  forget  Thee.  Visit  not  our  offences  upon  our  heads,  Gracious 
God ! '  And  thus  that  night  was  passed  in  prayer,  until  the 
tired  body  could  pray  no  more.  But  the  next  dawn,  a  few 
minutes  after  the  march  had  begun,  my  people  were  restored 
to  me,  with  food  sufficient  to  save  the  perishing  souls  at  the 
camp. 

On  all  my  expeditions,  prayer  made  me  stronger,  morally 
and  mentally,  than  any  of  my  non-praying  companions.  It 
did  not  blind  my  eyes,  or  dull  my  mind,  or  close  my  ears ;  but, 
on  the  contrary,  it  gave  me  confidence.  It  did  more :  it  gave  me 
joy,  and  pride,  in  my  work,  and  lifted  me  hopefully  over  the 
one  thousand  five  hundred  miles  of  Forest  tracks,  eager  to  face 
the  day's  perils  and  fatigues.  You  may  know  when  prayer 
is  answered,  by  that  glow  of  content  which  fills  one  who  has 
flung  his  cause  before  God,  as  he  rises  to  his  feet.  It  is  the 
first  reward  of  the  righteous  act,  the  act  that  ought  to  have 
been  done.  When  my  anticipations  were  not  realised  to  their 
fulness,  what  remained  was  better  than  nought;  and  what 
is  man,  that  he  should  quarrel  with  the  Inevitable? 

ox   PRAYER 

I  have  evidence,  satisfactory7  to  myself,  that  prayers  are 
granted.  By  prayer,  the  road  sought  for  has  become  visible, 
and  the  danger  immediately  lessened,  not  once  or  twice  or 


520  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

thrice,  but  repeatedly,  until  the  cold,  unbelieving  heart  was 
impressed. 

This  much  I  have  derived  from  many  a  personal  experi- 
ence. 

I  have  forgotten  my  prayers ;  my  sensibilities  have  been  so 
deadened  by  the  sordid  scenes  around  me  that  my  soul  was  not 
aroused  to  feel  that  there  was  a  refuge  for  distress.  Worldly 
thoughts  absorbed  my  attention ;  I  became  a  veritable  pagan, 
ever  ready,  on  occasion,  to  sneer  and  express  utter  disbelief. 
Finally,  I  have  drawn  near  a  danger,  and,  in  its  immediate 
presence,  I  have  understood  its  character  better ;  every  faculty 
is  then  brought  to  bear  upon  and  around  it,  and  a  sense  of 
utter  hopelessness  takes  possession  of  my  mind.  There  is  no 
cowardice,  no  thought  of  retreat;  rescue  or  no  rescue,  I  must 
face  it. 

At  first,  I  believe  that  it  will  be  possible  to  confront  it,  go 
through  with  it,  emerge  from  it  safely.  What  is  wanting,  but 
light?  Next,  I  am  reminded  that  such  a  scene  occurred 
before,  and  that  prayer  relieved  me.  Ah !  but  I  have  so  long 
refrained  from  prayer,  can  I  believe  that,  now,  prayer  would 
be  answered?  I  have  forfeited  the  right  to  be  heard.  Have 
I  not  joined  the  scoffers,  and  smiled  in  contempt  at  such 
puerile  ideas,  and  said,  '  Prayers  were  well  enough  when  we 
were  children,  but  not  now,  when  I  have  lived  so  long  with- 
out the  sign  of  a  miracle'  ?  And  yet — prayer  has  saved  me. 

Civilised  society  rejoices  in  the  protection  afforded  to  it 
by  strong  armed  law.  Those  in  whom  faith  in  God  is  strong 
feel  the  same  sense  of  security  in  the  deepest  wilds.  An  in- 
visible, Good  Influence  surrounds  them,  to  Whom  they  may 
appeal  in  distress,  an  Influence  which  inspires  noble  thoughts, 
comfort  in  grief,  and  resolution  when  weakened  by  misfor- 
tune. I  imperfectly  understand  this  myself,  but  I  have  faith 
and  believe.  I  know  that,  when  I  have  called,  I  have  been 
answered,  strengthened,  and  assisted.  I  am  prone  to  forget- 
fulness,  and  to  much  pride;  but  I  cannot  forget  that,  when 
an  accusing  thought  entered  my  soul  like  a  sword,  I  became 
penitent  and  responded.  Subduing  my  unbelief,  I  prayed, 
and  obtained  a  soothing  grace  which  restored  to  me  a  confi- 
dence and  cheerfulness  which  was  of  benefit  to  myself  and 
others. 


t 


THOUGHTS   FROM   NOTE-BOOKS  521 

OX    RELIGIOUS   EDUCATION 

The  white  man's  child  has  a  more  fertile  nature  than  the  sav- 
age. The  two  natures  differ  as  much  as  the  fat-soiled  garden 
near  the  Metropolis  differs  from  the  soil  of  the  grassy  plains  in 
Africa,  the  only  manure  of  which  has  been  the  ash  of  scorched 
grass.  The  cultivated  garden  will  grow  anything  almost  to 
perfection ;  the  African  prairie  will  grow  but  a  poor  crop  of 
hardy  maize  or  millet.  Religion  acts  as  a  moral  gardener,  to 
weed  out,  or  suppress,  evil  tendencies,  which,  like  weeds  and  net- 
tles, would  shoot  up  spontaneously  in  the  wonderful  compost 
of  the  garden,  if  unwatched.  The  surroundings  of  the  child's 
mind  resemble  the  fertilising  constituents  of  that  garden  soil. 

The  demands,  by-laws,  necessities,  of  a  feverish,  yet  idle, 
Society,  serve  to  evolve  an  abortive  man,  without  truth, 
honesty,  usefulness,  or  enthusiasm.  He  has  no  physical 
strength,  or  mental  vigour ;  serious  in  nothing,  not  even  in  the 
pursuit  of  variety  or  frivolity,  not  a  word  he  utters  can  be 
believed,  by  himself  or  anybody  else ;  for,  simplest  words  have 
lost  their  common  meaning,  and  simplest  acts  are  not  to  be 
described  by  any  phrase  required  by  veracity.  Religion  in- 
spires the  moral  training  requisite  to  crush  these  noxious 
fungi  of  civilised  life.  The  savage  is  licensed  to  kill,  to  defend 
his  misdeed  by  simple  lying,  to  steal,  in  order  to  supply  his 
daily  wants.  The  white  child  kills  character  with  his  tongue, 
he  robs  wholesale  where  the  savage  robs  by  grains. 

OX    SIR   EDWIX   ARXOLD's    '  LIGHT   OF   THE  WORLD  ' 

After  reading  a  few  hundred  lines  of  Edwin  Arnold's  new 
poem,1  'The  Light  of  the  World,'  I  perceived  that  he  had 
not  hit  the  right  chord.  It  is  'The  Light  of  Asia,'  in  a  feeble, 
vapid  style ;  or,  to  put  it  more  correctly,  it  is  a  Buddhist  trying 
to  sing  the  glories  of  the  Christian's  Lord.  His  soul  is  not  in 
his  song,  though  there  are  beautiful  passages  in  it ;  but  it  is  the 
tone  of  an  unbeliever.  Alas  for  this !  What  a  poem  he  could 
have  written,  had  he  but  believed  in  the  Saviour  of  the  world ! 

MIXD    AXD   SOUL 

My  own  mind,  I  know,  has  been  derived  from  God.  Its 
capacity,  in  this  existence,  is  measurable.   I  feel  that,  up  to 

1  Extract  from  the  Journal,  dated  February  14,  1891. 


522  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

a  certain  point,  it  could  expand,  but,  beyond  that,  is  mad- 
ness. It  can  descend  to  a  certain  point  below  normal;  below 
that  would  be  ruin.  Being  measurable,  it  is  just  suited  to 
my  limited  nature.  It  is  marvellously  expansible;  it  can  also 
descend  to  that  pin-point  and  faint  glimmer  of  reason  at  zero 
which  guides  the  brute.  The  Intangible,  Invisible,  yet  Al- 
mighty Intellect  conceived,  by  knowing,  the  beginnings  of  the 
spacious  universe  and  its  countless  myriad  of  things;  the 
brutes  cannot  comprehend  this,  but,  to  me,  has  been  given 
just  enough  mind  to  be  impressed  by  the  vast  and  solemn  fact 
of  this  immeasurable  knowledge.  As  my  mind  governs  me, 
and  all  that  belongs  to  me,  in  the  same  manner  I  conceive 
that  every  movement  of  the  universe  and  its  myriad  of  con- 
stituents is  subject  to  some  Divine  Mind.  This  Divine  mind 
is  the  power  of  a  Personal  Spirit  which  is  God,  Who  has  en- 
dowed humanity  with  the  necessary,  though  limited,  portion 
of  His  own  subtle  and  all-powerful  intelligence. 

All  my  instincts  warn  me  that  this  is  so ;  but  that,  so  long 
as  it  is  imprisoned  by  this  earthly  matter,  it  cannot  give 
itself  that  freedom.  When  freed  from  it,  my  spirit  will  bound 
to  its  source. 

A  contracted,  insect-mind,  it  is  often.  Fancy  it  groping 
with  its  tentacles,  stretched  almost  to  snapping,  far  into 
yet  further  spaces ;  then,  suddenly  contracting  into  apparent 
mindlessness,  at  the  buzz  of  a  fly,  the  bite  of  an  insect,  the 
pang  of  small  nerve !  With  aspirations  after  a  seat  in  the 
Heaven  of  Heavens,  yet,  more  often,  content  to  wallow  in 
the  mud  —  thereby  proving  its  relationship  to  the  noblest 
and  the  meanest !  Without  that  portion  of  Divinity  it  could 
not  imagine  its  obligation  to  the  Creator,  nor  be  conscious 
of  its  affinity  with  the  brutes. 

ON    THE   FEAR   OF   DEATH 

The  weakness  of  our  number  against  the  overpowering 
force  of  savages  '  forbade  resistance.  Against  such  a  multitude, 
what  hope  had  we?  The  imminence  of  death  brought  with 
it  a  strange  composure.  I  did  not  fear  it  as  I  imagined  I  should  ; 
a  fortitude  to  bear  anything  came  to  me,  and  I  could  actu- 

1  At  Bumbireh.   See  Stanley's  Through  tlie  Dark  Continent. 


THOUGHTS   FROM   NOTE-BOOKS  523 

ally  smile  contemptuously  at  the  former  craven  fear  of  its 
pain  and  the  sudden  rupture  of  life. 

ON   ILLUSIONS 

Though  many  illusions  are  of  a  character  we  should  gladly 
cherish,  yet  the  sooner  we  lose  some  of  them,  the  sooner  we 
gain  the  power  of  seeing  clearly  into  things.  The  one  who 
possesses  least  has  the  best  chance  of  becoming  wise.  The 
man  who  travels,  and  reflects,  loses  illusions  faster  than  he 
who  stays  at  home.  There  are  nevertheless  some  illusions, 
which,  when  lost,  he  bitterly  regrets. 

To-day,  I  can  feel  comfortably  at  home  in  almost  any 
country ;  and  can  fully  appreciate  the  truth  of  Shakespeare's 
words,  that '  To  a  wise  man,  all  places  that  the  eye  of  Heaven 
visits  are  ports  and  happy  havens.'  Yet  I  sympathise  still 
with  that  belief  of  my  youth,  that  Wales,  being  my  native- 
land,  possessed  for  me  superior  charms  to  any  other. 

Had  I  seen  no  other  wondrous  lands,  met  no  other  men 
and  women  with  whom  I  could  sympathise,  it  is  probable 
that  I  should  have  retained  the  belief  that  Wales  was  the 
finest  country  in  the  world,  and  the  Welsh  people  the  best.  I 
used  to  believe  the  Bishop  was  the  holiest  man  living;  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Smalley,  of  Cwm,  the  biggest  man ;  Sam  Ellis,  of 
Llanbach,  the  strongest  man ;  Hicks  Owen,  the  finest  preacher ; 
my  cousin  Moses,  the  most  scholarly ;  the  Vale  of  Clwyd,  the 
prettiest ;  Liverpool,  the  biggest  and  most  populous  town ;  and 
the  Welsh  people,  the  superior  of  any  in  the  whole  world. 

Without  any  effort  of  mine,  or  anybody  else's,  to  disabuse 
me  of  these  illusions,  I  have  seen  hundreds  just  as  holy  as  the 
Bishop,  bigger  men  than  the  Cwm  rector,  stronger  men  than 
Sam  Ellis,  better  preachers  than  Hicks  Owen,  men  more 
scholarly  than  Moses  Owen,  prettier  scenery  than  the  Clwyd, 
richer  and  more  populous  towns  than  Liverpool,  and  more 
advanced  people  than  the  Welsh ! 

THE  TRAINING  OF  YOUNG  MEN,  AND  EDUCATION 

When  I  was  young,  a  religious  and  moral  training  was  con- 
sidered necessary,1  as  well  as  an  intellectual  education,  for  the 

*  This  is  not  yet  the  policy  of  England.  Thus  we  find  Mr.  Runciman,  President 
of  the  Board  of  Education,  saying  (February  10, 1909)  that  he  believed  that  the  teachers, 


524  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

improvement  of  youth ;  but,  since  the  banishment  of  the  Bible 
from  the  schools,  it  has  been  deemed  wise  to  pay  attention  to 
the  training  of  the  intellect  alone,  while  the  natural  disposi- 
tion of  youth  has  caused  attention  to  be  paid  to  athletics. 

With  a  few  choice  natures  this  might  be  sufficient,  but 
I  observe  that  the  generality  of  young  men  have  not  that 
respect  for  moral  obligations  it  would  be  desirable  to  foster. 
The  youth  whose  word  is  unimpeachable,  whose  courage  is 
based  on  a  thorough  comprehension  of  his  duty,  called  moral, 
whose  spirit  bends  before  its  dictates,  yet  is  capable  of  being 
inspired  by  honour,  and  swayed  by  discipline,  is  far  more  use- 
ful, valuable,  and  trustworthy  than  an  athlete  with  all  the 
intellectual  attainments  of  a  Senior  Wrangler ;  but  an  athlete 
combining  such  moral  and  intellectual  gifts  would  inspire 
love  and  admiration  wherever  he  went. 

When  our  sons  are  steady,  reliable,  and  honest,  as  well  as 
scholars  and  athletes,  this  nation  will  top  the  list  of  nations, 
as  there  are  no  excellences  superior  to  these  obtainable,  and 
these  will  lead  the  world  for  ages  yet.  The  Presbyterianism  of 
Cromwell  did  much ;  but  we  can  beat  that,  if  we  aim  for  the 
best.  The  three  M's  are  all  that  we  need  —  Morals,  Mind, 
and  Muscles.  These  must  be  cultivated,  if  we  wish  to  be 
immortal — we  are  in  danger  of  paying  attention  to  Mind 
and  Muscle  only. 

ON   EDUCATION 

Schools  turn  out  men  efficient  enough  in  reading,  writing, 
ciphering,  and  deportment;  they  then  go  forth  to  face  the 
world,  and  they  find  their  school  education  is  the  smallest 
part  of  what  they  have  in  future  to  learn.  They  are  fit  for  no 
profession  or  employment. 

The  average  school-boy  and  college  man  cannot  under- 
stand business,  cannot  build  or  make  anything,  cannot  com- 
mand men ;  only  after  long  and  laborious  practice  can  he  be 
entrusted  to  do  rightly  any  of  these  things.  Three-fourths 
of  those  who  came  to  Africa  were  qualified  only  in  the  ac- 
complishments of  the  school-boy.    They  were  unpractised  in 

as  well  as  the  parents,  desired  that  the  children  should  be  brought  up  reverentially  and 
righteously,  and  there  was  no  better  way  than  basing  the  teaching  upon  a  biblical 
foundation,  which  had  existed  from  time  immemorial,  and  which  it  would  be  foolish 
and  reckless  to  uproot.  —  D.  S. 


THOUGHTS   FROM   NOTE-BOOKS  525 

authority,  untrustworthy  as  to  obedience,  ignorant  of  self- 
command  ;  they  had  apparently  never  sounded  their  own 
virtues  or  capacities;  they  appeared  surprised  and  incapable 
when  called  upon  to  think  for  themselves.  The  public  schools 
and  colleges  do  not  teach  young  men  to  think. 

ON    LEARNING 

Learning,  by  which  is  commonly  understood  the  results 
of  assimilation  of  varied  and  long  years  of  reading,  reflection, 
and  observation,  is  the  capital  of  intellect,  and  is  an  honoured 
thing.  It  is  composed  of  literary  acquisitions  subjected  to 
mental  analysis.  It  certainly  contributes  to  the  elevation  of 
man  to  a  lofty  sphere ;  and  yet,  after  all,  I  am  inclined  to  think 
that  great  as  a  literary  man  may  be  from  the  store  of  intel- 
lectual treasures  he  may  have  acquired,  he  gets  an  undue 
proportion  of  the  world's  admiration.  The  master-minds  of  a 
nation  are  many  and  various.  The  great  statesman,  the  great 
administrator,  the  great  inventor,  the  great  man  of  science,  the 
multitude  of  nameless,  but  bold  and  resolute,  pioneers,  those, 
for  instance,  who  made  Australasia ;  our  great  missionaries, 
those  brave,  patient  souls  who,  in  distant  lands,  devote  their 
lives  to  kindling  the  fires  of  Christianity  in  savage  breasts ; 
the  missionaries  at  home,  who  are  unweariedly  exhorting  and 
encouraging  the  poor  and  despairing,  exciting  the  young  and 
heroic  virtue  of  these,  and  many  more,  who  go  to  make  the 
leaders  of  a  civilised  nation,  —  we  hear  little  of  these,  com- 
pared with  what  we  are  told  of  men  who  write  books.  But 
the  stones  which  go  to  make  the  palatial  edifice  have  been 
laid  by  many  hands.  Why  does  most  of  the  honour  go  to  the 
writer  of  books  ? 

ON    REAL   RECREATION 

'Joy's  Soul  lies  in  the  doing, 
And  the  Rapture  of  pursuing, 
Is  the  prize.' 

Even  rest  is  found  in  occupation,  and  striving.  It  is  labour 
which  kills  discontent,  and  idle  repose  which  slays  content; 
for  it  creates  a  myriad  of  ills,  and  a  nausea  of  life,  it  brings 
congestion  to  the  organs  of  the  body,  and  muddles  the  clear 
spring  of  intelligence.  The  heart  is  heated  by  our  impatience, 


526  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

while  the  soul  is  deflected  from  its  vigorous  course  by  excess 
of  shameful  ease.  Joy's  Soul  lies  in  the  doing !  The  truth  which 
lies  in  this  verse  explains  that  which  has  caused  many  a  per- 
sonality to  become  illustrious.  It  is  an  old  subject  in  poetry. 
Shakespeare,  Milton,  Wordsworth,  Longfellow,  and  many 
more  have  rung  the  changes,  or  expressed  the  idea,  in  verse. 

Milton,  though  troubled  with  blindness  and  domestic 
misery,  was  happy  in  the  lofty  scenes  conjured  up  by  his 
poetic  imagination,  and  therefore  he  could  have  said,  '  Joy's 
Soul  lies  in  the  doing,  And  the  Rapture  of  pursuing  is  the 
prize.' 

Livingstone  was  happy  in  the  consciousness  that  he  was 
engaged  in  a  noble  work,  and  the  joy  in  the  grand  conse- 
quences that  would  follow.  This  self-imposed  mission  ban- 
ished remembrance  of  the  advance  of  age,  and  made  him 
oblivious  of  the  horrors  of  his  position.  What  supported 
Gordon  during  the  siege  of  Khartoum,  but  this  inward  joy 
in  his  mission  which  his  nature  idealised  and  glorified? 
Coleridge  says :  — 

1  Joy,  Lady !  is  the  spirit  and  the  power 
Which  wedding  Nature  to  us  gives  in  dower.' 

ON    REVIEWS   AND   REVIEWERS 

The  Reviews  of  my  books  have  sometimes  been  too  one- 
sided, whether  for,  or  against,  me.  The  Reviewer  is  either  ful- 
some, or  he  is  a  bitter  savage,  striking  stupidly  because  of 
blind  hate.  A  Review  in  the  '  New  York  Tribune,'  for  in- 
stance, or  the  '  New  York  Independent,'  the  American  '  Sun/ 
the  'Times,'  '  Morning  Post,'  or  '  Daily  Telegraph,'  is,  how- 
ever, the  disinterested  outcome  of  study,  and  is  really  in- 
structive and  worth  reading. 

It  was  owing  to  repeated  attacks  of  the  Public  and  Press 
that  I  lost  the  elastic  hope  of  my  youth,  the  hope,  and  belief, 
that  toil,  generosity,  devotion  to  duty,  righteous  doing,  would 
receive  recognition  at  the  hands  of  my  fellow-creatures  who 
had  been  more  happily  born,  more  fortunately  endowed,  more 
honoured  by  circumstances  and  fate  than  I.  It  required  much 
control  of  natural  waywardness  to  reform  the  shattered  as- 
pirations. For  it  seemed  as  though  the  years  of  patient  watch- 


THOUGHTS   FROM   NOTE-BOOKS  527 

fulness,  the  long  periods  of  frugality,  the  painstaking  self- 
teaching  in  lessons  of  manliness,  had  ended  disastrously  in 
failure. 

For  what  was  my  reward  ?  Resolute  devotion  to  a  certain 
ideal  of  duty,  framed  after  much  self-exhortation  to  up- 
rightness of  conduct,  and  righteous  dealing  with  my  fellow- 
creatures,  had  terminated  in  my  being  proclaimed  to  all  the 
world  first  as  a  forger,  and  then  as  a  buccaneer,  an  adven- 
turer, a  fraud,  and  an  impostor !  It  seemed  to  reverse  all  order 
and  sequence,  to  reverse  all  I  had  been  taught  to  expect. 
Was  this  what  awaited  a  man  who  had  given  up  his  life  for 
his  country  and  for  Africa?  He  who  initiates  change  must. 
be  prepared  for  opposition;  the  strong-willed  is  bound  to  be 
hated.  But  the  object  need  not  be  sacrificed  for  this.  A  man 
shall  not  swerve  from  his  path  because  of  the  barking  of  dogs- 
Spears  in  Africa  were  hurtful  things,  and  so  was  the  calumny 
of  the  press  here ;  but  I  went  on  and  did  my  work,  the  work 
I  was  sent  into  the  world  to  do. 

OX    READING   THE   NEWSPAPERS 

That  which  has  to  be  resisted  in  reading  newspapers  is  the 
tendency  to  become  too  vehement  about  many  things  with 
which  really  I  have  no  concern.  I  am  excited  to  scorn  and 
pity,  enraged  by  narratives  of  petty-  events  of  no  earthly  con- 
cern to  me,  or  any  friend  of  mine.  I  am  roused  to  indignation 
by  ridiculous  partisanship,  by  loose  opinions,  hastily  formed 
without  knowledge  of  the  facts.  Columns  of  the  papers  are 
given  up  to  crime,  to  records  of  murder,  and  unctuous  lead- 
ers on  them.  Many  newspapers  are  absolutely  wanting  in 
patriotism.  A  week  of  such  reading  makes  me  generally  in- 
dulgent to  moral  lapses,  inclines  me  to  weak  sentimentalism, 
and  causes  me  to  relax  in  the  higher  duty  I  owe  to  God,  my 
neighbour,  and  myself ;  in  short,  many  days  must  elapse  be- 
fore I  can  look  into  my  own  eyes,  weigh  with  my  own  mind, 
and  be  myself  again.  In  Africa,  where  I  am  free  of  news- 
papers, the  mind  has  scope  in  which  to  revolve,  virtuously 
content.  Civilisation  never  looks  more  lovely  than  when 
surrounded  by  barbarism ;  and  yet,  strange  to  say,  barbarism 
never  looks  so  inviting  to  me  as  when  I  am  surrounded  by 
civilisation. 


528  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 


RETURNING   TO   ENGLAND 

When  returning  to  Britain  from  the  Continent,  I  am  not 
struck  by  the  great  superiority  of  that  land  over  France, 
Italy,  Belgium,  and  Germany;  in  some  things  it  is  decidedly 
inferior,  as  in  the  more  substantial  structure,  and  more  pleas- 
ing appearance,  of  the  homes  abroad :  they  are  bigger,  loftier, 
cleaner,  and  handsomer,  the  public  buildings  more  imposing. 

France  and  Italy  shine  with  whiteness,  Britain  appears 
in  a  half-cleaned-up  state,  after  being  drenched  with  soot; 
its  sky  seems  more  threatening,  and  though  the  leafage  and 
grass  in  the  fields  are  pleasantly  green,  the  stems  and  twigs 
are  exceedingly  black.  The  white  cottages,  with  red  tiles,  of 
France,  are  more  beautiful  than  the  dingy  brick  and  dark 
slate  of  England. 

The  generous  union  of  hearts  and  hands,  loving  brother- 
hood, equality  of  one  sturdy  farmer  with  another,  are  bet- 
ter exemplified  by  the  open,  cultivated  fields  of  Europe, 
than  by  the  miserable,  useless  hedges,  which,  by  their  crooked 
lines  marking  the  small  properties,  tell  me  which  one  is  poor, 
which  better-off,  which  rich.  Then  I  hate  the  waste  of  good 
land,  and  while  the  island  is  but  small,  thousands  of  square 
miles  are  absorbed  by  the  briar  and  hawthorn-topped  dykes, 
and  their  muddy  ditches,  which  might  be  utilised  in  extending 
fields  to  grow  corn  for  man,  and  grass  for  cattle. 

Then,  on  reaching  London,  compare  the  sad-looking  streets, 
which  you  look  down  upon  from  the  lofty  railway,  with  the 
bright  Paris  you  left  in  the  morning.  You  may  compare 
the  one  to  a  weeping  widow,  the  other  to  a  gay  bride ;  or  to  a 
slatternly  fishwoman  and  to  a  neat  grisette.  These  thoughts 
tend  to  make  one  humble-minded,  and  admit  that,  after  all 
you  have  heard  about  the  superiority  of  England,  Frenchmen, 
Swiss,  Germans,  Italians,  and  Belgians  have  nothing  to  de- 
plore at  being  born  in  their  own  lands,  whatever  some  Eng- 
lishmen may  profess  to  feel  for  them ;  but  that,  rather,  we 
Englishmen  ought  to  grieve  that  things  are  so  awry  with  our 
climate  that  we  have  so  much  to  envy  our  neighbours.  How- 
ever, when  we  descend  from  the  train,  and  we  mix  with  our 
countrymen,  and  hear  their  pleasing  accents  of  English,  are 
received  with  politeness  by  friends,  Custom-house  officials,  and 


THOUGHTS   FROM    XOTE-BOOKS  529 

cabmen,  a  secret  feeling  of  pleasure  takes  possession  of  us,  and 
we  rejoice  that  our  native  language  is  English,  and  that  we 
belong  to  the  big,  broad-chested  race  round  about  us. 

FORTY   YEARS   AGO 

It  is  the  same  nation ;  it  is  the  same  Queen ;  the  present 
Ministers  are  twin  brothers  to  those  who  governed  then.  In 
the  pulpits  and  the  schools  the  same  preachers  and  teachers 
preach  and  teach.  One  might  say  that  no  change  has  taken 
place  in  forty  years.  It  is  certainly  the  same  nation,  but  never- 
theless the  people  of  to-day  are  different  from  the  people  of 
forty  years  ago. 

The  captains  of  ships  and  officers  of  the  army,  the  school- 
masters at  the  schools,  and  the  governors  of  gaols,  have  aban- 
doned the  birch  and  the  '  cat.'  Instead  of  applying  black 
marks  on  the  bodies  of  their  victims  with  smiles  of  content, 
they  put  black  marks  in  a  book  opposite  their  names  —  and 
the  curious  punishment  seems  to  have  good  effect,  in  many 
cases. 

A  great  change  has  also  been  effected  in  the  Provinces. 
Forty  years  ago,  they  were  years  behind  the  Metropolis,  Liver- 
pool and  Manchester  were  only  'country  cousins'  to  London, 
and  the  people  of  the  country  were  vers-  far  behind  Liverpool 
and  Manchester;  whereas  now,  a  fashion  coming  out  to-day 
in  London  will  be  out,  to-morrow,  in  even'  village,  almost,  in 
Britain. 

Of  course,  the  railway,  the  telegraph,  and  the  Universal 
Providers  are  the  causes  of  this  universal  transmission  of 
metropolitan  ideas  and  tastes.  This  is  desirable  in  a  great 
measure,  because  it  has  a  stimulating  and  quickening  tendency 
on  'provincialism,'  and  militates  against  ' stodginess.'  If  we 
could  only  be  sure  that  no  matter  vitiating  the  moral  fibre 
of  the  nation  also  ran  along  the  arteries  of  the  land  from  its 
heart,  we  should  have  cause  for  congratulation ;  but,  if  the 
extremities  of  the  land  absorb  the  impurities  of  the  Metropolis, 
the  strong  moral  fibre  of  the  nation  will  soon  be  destroyed. 

There  are  things  characteristic  of  the  masses  in  towns,  and 
other  things  which  are,  or  were,  characteristic  of  the  country. 
But  now  the  hot  impulse  of  the  city  mobs  has  an  appreciable 
effect  on  those  in  the  provinces,  erstwhile  sturdier  and  more 


530  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 

deliberate.  If  we  were  always  sure  that  the  impulse  was  good 
and  beneficial,  there  would  be  nothing  to  regret.  The  frivoli- 
ties of  an  aggregate  of  humanity  such  as  London  presents  are 
inseparable  from  the  many  millions  of  people  gathered  within 
its  walls ;  but  they  are  out  of  place  under  the  blue  sky,  and  in 
the  peaceful,  green  fields  of  the  country.  The  smoke  of  the 
city,  and  the  roar  of  the  traffic,  obscure  the  heavens,  and  affect 
the  nerves,  until  we  almost  forget  the  God  Who  rules,  and  our 
religious  duties. 

Outside  of  London,  the  smiling  fields,  and,  skywards,  the 
rolling  clouds  and  the  shining  sun,  make  us  aware  that  there 
is  a  Presence  we  had  almost  forgotten. 

SOCIALISM 

Socialism  is  a  return  to  primitive  conditions.  Where  it  is 
in  force  in  Africa,  on  the  Congo,  especially,  we  see  that  their 
condition  is  more  despicable  than  in  East  Africa. 

On  the  Congo,  people  are  afraid  to  get  richer  than  their 
neighbours.  They  would  be  objects  of  suspicion ;  some  day  the 
tribe  would  doom  them,  and  they  would  be  burnt.  Property 
in  common  has  often  been  tried  in  America :  e.  g.,  the  original 
Virginian  settlers,  the  Pilgrims  in  Massachusetts,  the  Shakers, 
and  others ;  but  they  have  had  to  abandon  the  project.  Merely 
by  preventing  the  spoliation  of  their  fellows,  and  giving  each 
man  freedom  to  develop  his  powers,  we  have  done  a  prodigious 
good  in  Africa. 

Man  must  be  protected  from  his  fellow-man's  greed,  as  well 
as  from  his  anger.  Individuals  require  to  be  protected  from 
the  rapacity  of  communities. 

LOAFERS 

If  men  who  take  such  pride  in  cheating  their  fellows,  by 
doing  as  little  work  as  possible,  were,  only  for  a  change,  to 
glory  in  doing  more  and  better  than  was  expected  of  them, 
what  a  difference,  I  have  often  thought,  it  would  make  in  the 
feeling  between  employers  and  employees ! 

THE    CRY   OF    'WALES   FOR   THE   WELSH' 

During  my  residence  in  Wales  every  English  man  or  woman 
I  saw  has  left  in  my  memory  an  amiable  reminder.  The  Bishop 


THOUGHTS  FROM   NOTE-BOOKS  531 

was  an  Englishman.  Captain  Thomas,  the  paternal,  fair: 
minded,  hospitable  Guardian,  was  English.  Her  Majesty's 
Inspector,  learned,  polite,  benevolent,  was  English.  Bryn- 
bella's  lessee,  generous  and  kindly,  was  English.  A  chance 
visitor,  a  lady,  who  came  to  sketch  in  the  neighbourhood,  sit- 
ting on  a  camp-stool  at  an  easel,  was  English.  I  shall  never 
forget  her.  She  painted  small  water-colours,  and  gave  us  all 
cakes,  oranges,  and  apples,  also  sixpences  to  the  bigger  boys 
and  twopences  to  the  lesser ! 

The  best  books,  the  beautiful  stories,  the  novelettes,  our 
geographies,  spelling-books,  histories,  and  school-readers,  our 
Prayer-books  and  Bibles,  were  English.  Yet  the  Welsh  hated 
the  English,  and  the  reason  for  it  I  have  never  been  able  to 
discover,  even  to  this  day. 

We  also  detested  the  Paddys  of  the  Square,  because  they 
were  ragged,  dirty,  and  quarrelsome,  foul  of  speech,  and  noisy. 

We  saw  a  few  French,  at  least  we  were  told  they  were 
French :  they  were  too  much  despised  to  be  hated.  They 
belonged  to  that  people  who  were  beaten  at  Crecy,  Agincourt, 
Blenheim,  and  Waterloo. 

I  should  therefore  be  false  to  myself  if  I  stooped  to  say 
that  the  Welsh  are  the  first  people  under  the  sun,  and  that 
Wales  is  the  most  beautiful  country  in  the  world. 

But,  I  am  quite  willing  to  admit  that  the  Welsh  are  as  good 
as  any,  and  that  they  might  surpass  the  majority  of  people 
if  they  tried,  and  that  Wales  contains  within  its  limited  area 
as  beautiful  scenes  as  any.  The  result  of  my  observations  is 
that  in  Nature  the  large  part  of  humanity  is  on  a  pretty  even 
plane,  but  that  some  respectable  portion  of  it,  thank  Good- 
ness !  has  risen  to  a  higher  altitude,  owing  to  the  advantages 
of  civilisation.  But  there  is  a  higher  altitude  still,  which 
can  only  be  reached  by  those  nations  who  leave  off  brooding 
among  traditions,  and  grasp  firmly  and  gratefully  the  benefits 
offered  to  them  by  the  progress  of  the  age,  and  follow  the 
precepts  of  the  seers. 

'Wales  for  the  Welsh'  is  as  senseless  as  '  Ireland  for  the 
Irish.'  A  common  flag  waves  over  these  happy  islands,  unit- 
ing all  in  a  brotherhood  sealed  by  blood.  Over  what  conti- 
nents has  it  not  streamed  aloft  ?  Who  can  count  the  victories 
inscribed  on  it? 


532  HENRY  M.   STANLEY 


NOTES  ON   AFRICAN   TRAVEL,   ETC. 

ON    STARTING   ON   AN    EXPEDITION 

Take  an  honest,  open-eyed  view  of  your  surroundings,  with 
as  much  faith  as  possible  in  the  God  above  you,  Who  knows 
your  heart  better  than  you  know  it  yourself;  and  consider 
that  you  cannot  perish  unless  it  is  His  will.  But  a  man  need 
not  let  his  soul  be  oppressed  by  fears,  religious,  or  otherwise, 
so  long  as  his  motives  are  righteous,  his  endeavours  honest. 
Let  him  see  also  that  his  actions  are  just,  and  his  mind  free 
from  sordid  or  selfish  passions ;  and  that  his  whole  aim  is  to  be 
workmanlike  and  duteous.  Thus  he  is  as  fit  for  Heaven  as  for 
the  world.  Then,  bidding  a  glad  farewell  to  the  follies  and 
vanities  of  civilised  cities,  step  out  with  trustful  hearts,  souls 
open  as  the  day,  to  meet  whatever  good  or  evil  may  be  in 
store  for  us,  perceiving,  by  many  insignificant  signs  around, 
that  whatever  heavenly  protection  may  be  vouchsafed  to  us, 
it  would  soon  be  null  and  void  unless  we  are  watchful,  alert, 
and  wise,  and  unless  we  learn  to  do  the  proper  thing  at  the 
right  moment  —  for  to  this  end  was  our  intellect  and  educa- 
tion given  us. 

Pious  missionaries,  even  while  engaged  in  worship,  have 
been  massacred  at  the  altar.  The  white  skin  of  the  baptised 
European  avails  nothing  against  the  arrow.  Holy  amulets  and 
crosses  are  no  protection  against  the  spear.  Faith,  without 
awakened  faculties  and  sharp  exercise  of  them,  is  no  shield  at 
all  against  lawless  violence ! 

WRITTEN    IN   AFRICA,    IN    1 876,    IN   A   NOTE-BOOK 

One  of  the  first  sweet  and  novel  pleasures  a  man  experiences 
in  the  wilds  of  Africa,  is  the  almost  perfect  independence ;  the 
next  thing  is  the  indifference  to  all  things  earthly  outside  his 
camp ;  and  that,  let  people  talk  as  they  may,  is  one  of  the  most 
exquisite,  soul-lulling  pleasures  a  mortal  can  enjoy.  These 
two  almost  balance  the  pains  inflicted  by  the  climate.  In 
Europe,  care  ages  a  man  soon  enough ;  and  it  is  well  known 
that  it  was  '  care  which  killed  the  cat' !  In  Africa,  the  harass- 
ing, wearisome  cares  of  the  European  are  unknown.  It  is  the 
fever  which  ages  one.   Such  care  as  visits  explorers  is  nothing 


THOUGHTS  FROM   NOTE-BOOKS  533 

to  the  trials  of  civilisation.  In  Africa,  it  is  only  a  healthful 
exercise  of  the  mind,  without  some  little  portion  of  which,  it 
were  really  not  worth  while  living. 

The  other  enjoyment  is  the  freedom  and  independence  of 
mind,  which  elevates  one's  thoughts  to  purer,  higher  atmos- 
pheres. It  is  not  repressed  by  fear,  nor  depressed  by  ridicule 
and  insults.  It  is  not  weighed  down  by  sordid  thoughts,  or 
petty  interests,  but  now  preens  itself,  and  soars  free  and 
unrestrained ;  which  liberty,  to  a  vivid  mind,  imperceptibly 
changes  the  whole  man  after  a  while. 

No  luxury  in  civilisation  can  be  equal  to  the  relief  from 
the  tyranny  of  custom.  The  wilds  of  a  great  city  are  better 
than  the  excruciating  tyranny  of  a  small  village.  The  heart 
of  Africa  is  infinitely  preferable  to  the  heart  of  the  world's 
greatest  city.  If  the  way  to  it  was  smooth  and  safe,  millions 
would  fly  to  it.  But  London  is  better  than  Paris,  and  Paris  is 
better  than  Berlin,  and  Berlin  is  better  than  St.  Petersburg. 
The  West  invited  thousands  from  the  East  of  America  to  be 
relieved  of  the  grasp  of  tyrannous  custom.  The  Australians 
breathe  freer  after  leaving  England,  and  get  bigger  in  body 
and  larger  in  nature. 

I  do  not  remember  while  here  in  Africa  to  have  been  pos- 
sessed of  many  ignoble  thoughts;  but  I  do  remember,  very 
well,  to  have  had,  often  and  often,  very  lofty  ideas  concerning 
the  regeneration,  civilisation,  and  redemption  of  Africa,  and 
the  benefiting  of  England  through  her  trade  and  commerce ; 
besides  other  possible  and  impossible  objects.  '  If  one  had  only 
the  means,  such  and  such  things  would  be  possible  of  realisa- 
tion' !  I  am  continually  thinking  thus,  and  I  do  not  doubt  they 
formed  principally  the  dream-life  in  which  Livingstone  passed 
almost  all  his  leisure  hours. 

Another  enduring  pleasure  is  that  which  is  derived  from 
exploration  of  new,  unvisited,  and  undescribed  regions ;  for, 
daily,  it  forms  part  of  my  enjoyment,  especially  while  on  the 
march.  Each  eminence  is  eagerly  climbed  in  the  hope  of  view- 
ing new  prospects,  each  forest  is  traversed  with  a  strong  idea 
prevailing  that  at  the  other  end  some  grand  feature  of  nature 
may  be  revealed ;  the  morrow's  journey  is  longed  for,  in  the 
hope  that  something  new  may  be  discovered.  Then  there  are 
the  strange  and  amusing  scenes  of  camp-life  in  a  savage  land ; 


534  HENRY   M.  STANLEY 

the  visits  of  the  natives,  whose  peculiar  customs  or  dress,  and 
whose  remarks  on  strangers,  seldom  fail  to  be  entertaining; 
and,  best  of  all,  there  is  the  strong  internal  satisfaction  one 
feels  at  the  end  of  each  day's  labours,  and  the  proud  thought 
that  something  new  has  been  obtained  for  general  informa- 
tion, and  that  good  will  come  of  it.  Lastly,  there  is  the  plea- 
sure of  hunting  the  large,  noble  game  of  Africa ;  that  truest  of 
sports,  where  you  hunt  for  food  and  of  necessity;  to  track  the 
elephant,  rhinoceros,  buffalo,  the  eland,  and  other  magnificent 
animals  of  the  antelope  species. 

It  is  a  keen,  delightful  feeling  which  animates  the  mind  of 
the  African  hunter,  as  he  leaves  his  camp  full  of  people,  and 
plunges  into  the  unexplored  solitudes,  accompanied  by  only 
one  or  two  men,  in  search  of  game,  ignorant  of  the  adventures 
which  lie  before  him ;  but  with  swift  pulse,  braced  nerves,  and 
elated  heart,  he  is  ready  to  try  his  luck  against  even  the  most 
formidable.  The  success  of  the  hunt  enhances  his  pleasure, 
and,  on  his  return  to  camp,  he  meets  his  people,  who  are  all 
agape  with  admiration  of  his  prowess,  and  profuse  in  thanks 
for  the  gift  of  animal  food. 

If  the  traveller's  mind  is  so  happily  constituted  that,  in  the 
pursuit  of  duty,  he  can  also  command  enjoyment  in  its  pur- 
suit, each  day  brings  its  round  of  single,  happy  pleasures,  often 
out-balancing  the  drawbacks  of  travel  in  savage  Africa. 

1  For  such,  the  rivers  dash  their  foaming  tides, 
The  mountain  swells,  the  dale  subsides; 
E'en  thriftless  furze  detains  their  wandering  sight, 
And  the  rough,  barren  rocks  grow  pregnant  with  delight.' 

If  he  is  a  true  lover  of  wild  Nature,  where  can  he  view  her 
under  so  many  aspects  as  in  the  centre  of  Africa  ?  Where  is 
she  so  shy,  so  retired,  mysterious,  fantastic,  and  savage  as  in 
Africa  ?  Where  are  her  charms  so  strong,  her  moods  so  strange, 
as  in  Africa? 

One  time  she  appears  so  stale,  flat,  and  tedious,  that  the  very 
memory  of  the  scene  sickens  and  disgusts ;  another  time  she 
covers  her  prospects  with  such  a  mysterious  veil,  that  I  suf- 
fered from  protracted  fits  of  melancholy,  and  depression  of 
spirits,  to  such  a  degree  I  was  glad  to  turn  to  meditations  on 
the  words  of  the  fourteenth  chapter  of  Job.  It  is  when  Africa 


THOUGHTS  FROM   NOTE-BOOKS  535 

presents  vast  desolate  wastes,  without  grandeur,  beauty,  or 
sublimity,  when  even  animated  life  appears  quite  extinct, 
then  it  is  that  the  traveller  from  long  contemplating  such 
scenes  is  liable  to  become  seriously  afflicted  with  sullen, 
savage  humour,  as  though  in  accordance  with  what  he 
beholds. 

At  another  time,  Nature  in  Africa  exposes  a  fair,  fresh  face 
to  the  light  of  heaven,  a  very  queen  in  glory,  whose  grassy 
dress  exhibits  its  shimmers  as  it  is  gently  blown  by  the  breeze ; 
soft,  swelling  hills,  and  hollows  all  green  with  luxuriant  leaf- 
age ;  wild  flowers  and  blooming  shrubs  perfume  the  air,  and 
beautiful  outlines  of  hills  grace  the  extensive  prospect.  Oh ! 
at  such  times  I  forgot  all  my  toils  and  privations,  I  seemed 
re-created ;  the  mere  view  around  me  would  send  fresh  vigour 
through  my  nerves. 

In  her  grand  and  sublime  moods,  Nature  often  appears  in 
Africa,  her  crown,  wreathed  in  verdure,  lifted  sheer  up  to  the 
white  clouds,  the  flanks  of  her  hills  descending  to  the  verge 
of  her  mighty  lakes,  vast  and  impenetrable  forests  spreading 
for  unending  miles.  These  are  the  traveller's  reward ;  there- 
fore his  life  in  this  little-known  continent  need  not  be  intoler- 
able ;  it  is  not  merely  a  life  of  toil  and  danger ;  though  constant 
travel  may  be  fatiguing,  thirst  oppressive,  heat  a  drawback, 
and  the  ever-recurring  fever  a  great  evil,  he  may  also  find 
much  that  is  pleasant.  If  he  is  fortunate  in  his  travels,  he  will 
not  regret  having  undertaken  his  journey,  but  will  always 
look  back  upon  it,  as  I  do,  as  a  pleasant  period  of  a  useful 
life ;  for  it  will  have  considerably  enlightened  and  matured 
him,  and  renewed  his  love  for  his  own  race,  his  own  land, 
and  the  institutions  of  his  country,  thus  preparing  him  for 
the  cultivation  and  enjoyment  of  more  perfect  happiness 
at  home. 

AFTER   ONE   OF   HIS   EXPEDITIONS 

Stanley  writes :  'When  a  man  returns  home  and  finds  for 
the  moment  nothing  to  struggle  against,  the  vast  resolve, 
which  has  sustained  him  through  a  long  and  difficult  enter- 
prise, dies  away,  burning  as  it  sinks  in  the  heart;  and  thus 
the  greatest  successes  are  often  accompanied  by  a  peculiar 
melancholy.' 


536  HENRY   M.   STANLEY 

ON  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF  THE  CONGO 

1896.  The  King  of  the  Belgians  has  often  desired  me  to  go 
back  to  the  Congo ;  but  to  go  back,  would  be  to  see  mistakes 
consummated,  to  be  tortured  daily  by  seeing  the  effects  of  an 
erring  and  ignorant  policy.  I  would  be  tempted  to  re-con- 
stitute a  great  part  of  the  governmental  machine,  and  this 
would  be  to  disturb  a  moral  malaria  injurious  to  the  re-or- 
ganiser. We  have  become  used  to  call  vast,  deep  layers  of 
filth,  'Augean  stables':  what  shall  we  call  years  of  stupid 
government,  mischievous  encroachment  on  the  executive, 
years  of  unnecessary,  unqualified  officers,  years  of  cumber- 
some administration,  years  of  neglect  at  every  station,  years 
of  confusion  and  waste  in  every  office?  These  evils  have 
become  habitual,  and  to  remove  them  would  entail  much 
worry  and  dislike,  to  hear  of  them  would  set  my  nerves  on 
edge,  and  cause  illness. 

ON   THE   VALUE   OF   THE    CONGO    AND    BRITISH    EAST   AFRICA 

English  legislators  imagine  they  exhibit  their  wisdom  by 
challenging  travellers  to  describe  the  value  of  the  countries 
to  which  they  seek  to  draw  attention.  Hasty  and  preliminary 
exploration  of  the  topographers  cannot  be  expected  to  dis- 
cover all  the  resources  of  a  country.  For  sixty  years  the  Eng- 
lish were  in  possession  of  South  Africa  before  either  diamonds 
or  gold  were  found.  Nay,  England  herself  was  thought  by  the 
Romans  to  produce  nothing  but  sloes!  New  Zealand  was 
supposed  to  be  destitute  of  anything  but  timber.  Australia 
has  been  frequently  contemptuously  alluded  to. 

The  Congo  possesses  splendid  inland  navigation,  abundance 
of  copper,  nitre,  gold,  palm  oil,  nuts,  copal,  rubber,  ivory, 
fibre  for  rope  and  paper,  excellent  grasses  for  matting,  nets, 
and  fishing-lines,  timber  for  furniture  and  ship-building.  All 
this  could  have  belonged  to  Great  Britain,  but  was  refused. 
Alas! 

The  Duke  of  Wellington  replied  to  the  New  Zealand  Asso- 
ciation, in  1838,  that  Great  Britain  had  sufficient  colonies, 
even  though  New  Zealand  might  become  a  jewel  in  England's 
colonial  crown ! 


THOUGHTS  FROM   NOTE-BOOKS  537 

ON    GENERAL   GORDON.      1 892 

I  have  often  wondered  at  Gordon ;  in  his  place  I  should  have 
acted  differently. 

It  was  optional  with  Gordon  to  live  or  die ;  he  preferred 
to  die;  I  should  have  lived,  if  only  to  get  the  better  of  the 
Mahdi. 

With  joy  of  striving,  and  fierce  delight  of  thwarting,  I 
should  have  dogged  and  harassed  the  Mahdi,  like  Nemesis, 
until  I  had  him  down. 

I  maintain  that  to  live  is  harder  and  nobler  than  to  die ;  to 
bear  life's  burdens,  suffer  its  sorrows,  endure  its  agonies,  is 
the  greater  heroism. 

The  relief  of  Khartoum,  that  is  to  say,  removing  the  garri- 
son and  those  anxious  to  leave,  was  at  first,  comparatively 
speaking,  an  easy  task.  I  should  have  commenced  by  render- 
ing my  position  impregnable,  by  building  triple  fortifications 
inside  Khartoum,  abutting  on  the  Nile,  with  boats  and  steam- 
ers ever  ready.  No  Mahdist  should  have  got  at  me  or  my 
garrison !  I  should  then  have  commanded  all  those  civilians 
desirous  of  submitting  to  the  Mahdi  to  leave  Khartoum; 
people  do  not  realise  how  ready,  nay  eager,  they  were  to  do  so. 
Gordon  said  to  an  interviewer,  before  starting,  'The  moment 
it  is  known  we  have  given  up  the  game,  every  man  will  be 
only  too  eager  to  go  over  to  the  Mahdi ;  all  men  worship  the 
Rising  Sun.' 

But  I  should  never  have  stuck  to  Khartoum,  I  would  have 
departed  with  my  garrison  to  safer  lands  by  the  Upper  White 
Nile.  It  would  not  have  been  difficult  to  get  to  Berber,  if 
Gordon  had  started  without  delay,  in  fact,  as  soon  as  he  had 
fortified  himself  at  Khartoum.  My  withdrawal  would  have 
been  to  attack  the  better,  '  leaving  go  of  the  leg,  to  fly  at  the 
throat ' ;  but  if,  for  some  reason,  I  had  decided  to  stay,  my 
fortified  citadel  would  have  held  the  Mahdists  at  bay  till 
help  came.  There  would  have  been  no  danger  of  starvation, 
as  I  should  have  turned  all  undesirables  out.  Then,  as  a  last 
resource,  there  was  the  Nile. 

My  one  idea  would  have  been  to  carry  out  what  I  had 
undertaken  to  do,  without  any  outside  help.  If  I  had  gone 
to  Khartoum  to  rescue  the  garrison,  the  garrison  would  have 


538  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

been  rescued !  When  Gordon  started,  this  is  what  he  under- 
took to  do ;  there  was  no  thought,  or  question,  of  sending  a 
rescue  expedition.  It  was  failure  all  round  —  Gordon  failed 
first,  then  Gladstone  and  the  Government. 

But  I  have  refrained  from  all  public  expression  of  opinion, 
because  it  is  not  permitted  in  England  to  criticise  Gordon ; 
and,  besides,  he  was  a  true  hero,  and  he  died  nobly.  That 
silences  one :  nevertheless,  I  hold  that  Gordon  need  not  have 
died ! 


HENRY  MORTON  STANLEY 

Large  shall  his  name  be  writ,  with  that  strong  line, 
Of  heroes,  martyrs,  soldiers,  saints,  who  gave 
Their  lives  to  chart  the  waste,  and  free  the  slave, 

In  the  dim  Continent  where  his  beacons  shine. 

Rightly  they  call  him  Breaker  of  the  Path, 
Who  was  no  cloistered  spirit,  remote  and  sage, 
But  a  swift  swordsman  of  our  wrestling  age, 

Warm  in  his  love,  and  sudden  in  his  wrath. 

How  many  a  weary  league  beneath  the  Sun 
The  tireless  foot  had  traced,  that  lies  so  still. 
Now  sinks  the  craftsman's  hand,  the  sovereign  will; 

Now  sleeps  the  unsleeping  brain,  the  day's  work  done. 

Muffle  the  drums  and  let  the  death-notes  roll, 
One  of  the  mightier  dead  is  with  us  here ; 
Honour  the  vanward's  Chief,  the  Pioneer, 

Do  fitting  reverence  to  a  warrior  soul. 

But  far  away  his  monument  shall  be, 
In  the  wide  lands  he  opened  to  the  light, 
By  the  dark  Forest  of  the  tropic  night, 

And  his  great  River  winding  to  the  Sea. 

Sidney  Low. 

May  13,  IQ04. 


BOOKS  WRITTEN  BY  HENRY  M.  STANLEY 

How  I  Found  Livingstone.  With  maps  and  illustrations.  New  York : 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 

My  Kalulu:  Prince,  King,  and  Slave.  Illustrated.  New  York: 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 

Coomassie  and  Magdala:  the  British  Campaign  in  Africa.    New 

York :  Harper  and  Brothers. 
Through  the  Dark  Continent.    Illustrated.    2  vols.    New  York: 

Harper  and  Brothers. 
The  Congo  and  the  Founding  of  its  Free  State.    2  vols.    With  maps 

and  Illustrations.  New  York:  Harper  and  Brothers. 

In  Darkest  Africa:  the  Quest,  Rescue,  and  Retreat  of  Emin,  Gov- 
ernor of  Equatoria.  With  maps  and  illustrations.  2  vols.  New 
York:  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 

My  Dark  Companions  and  their  Strange  Stories.  Illustrated. 
New  York:  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 

Slavery  and  the  Slave  Trade  in  Africa.  Illustrated.  New  York: 
Harper  and  Brothers. 

My  Early  Travels  and  Adventures  in  America  and  Asia.  With 
portraits.     2  vols.    New  York :  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 

Through  South  Africa:  a  Visit  to  Rhodesia,  the  Transvaal,  Cape 
Colony,  and  Natal.  With  maps  and  illustrations.  New  York: 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 

V  All  the  above  works  were  published  in  England  by  Messrs.  Sampson  Low. 
Marston  &  Co. 


INDEX 


Abruzzi,  Duke  of  the,  ascends  the  Moun- 
tains of  the  Moon,  371. 

Abyssinian  expedition,  227-230. 

Aden,  Stanley  at,  237,  238. 

Africa,  the  Abyssinian  expedition,  227- 
230 ;  the  finding  of  Livingstone,  251-284  ; 
Coomassie,  285-295  ;  Stanley's  expedi- 
tion through,  296-332;  founding  the 
Congo  State,  333-352;  the  rescue  of 
Emin,  353-391;  a  review  of  Stanley's 
work  in,  392-408;  maps  of,  392,  393; 
South,  4S2-500;  on  starting  on  an  expe- 
dition into,  532  ;  on  the  pleasure  of  trav- 
elling in,  532-535  ;  on  returning  from  an 
expedition  in,  535. 

Ague,  155,  156. 

Albert  Edward  Nyanza,  the,  370,  371. 

Albert  Nyanza,  the,  359. 

Allen,  William,  468. 

Altschul,  Mr.,  151-161. 

America,  Stanley's  first  visit  to,  81-215; 
later  visits  to,  220-227,  291,  425-428. 

Anderson,  Captain,  345. 

Anderson,  Colonel  Finlay,  228,  237. 

Arkansas,  population  of,  156;  spirit  pre- 
vailing in,  156,  157. 

Arnold,  Sir  Edwin,  thoughts  on  his  Light 
of  the  World,  521. 

Ashantees,  the,  291-295. 

Ashburton,  Lady,  423. 

Ashmead-Bartlett,  Mr.,  480. 

Auckland,  Stanley  visits,  435,  436. 

Australia,  Stanley  visits,  434,  435. 

Autobiography ,  Stanley  begins,  465. 

Baker,  Mr.,  the  American,  215. 

Baker,  Sir  Samuel  White,  death  of,  462  ; 

Stanley's  estimate  of,  462,  463. 
Balfour,  Dr.  Andrew,  407. 
Balfour,  Arthur,  473,  474. 
Balfour,  Gerald,  474. 
Barker,  Frederick,  298,  300,  317. 
Barttelot,  Major,  354,  360,  364. 
Beauregard,  General  P.  G.  T.,  185,  187  n., 

445- 


Bedford,  Grammar  School  at,  456. 

Belgium,  in  Africa.  See  Leopold. 

Belmont,  battle  of,  175. 

Bennett,  J.  G,  Stanley's  first  interview 
with,  228 ;  commissions  Stanley  to 
search  for  Livingstone,  245 ;  agrees  to 
join  in  sending  Stanley  to  explore  Af- 
rica, 298. 

Bethell,  Commander,  478. 

Bible,  the,  the  elder  Mr.  Stanley's  views  of, 
1 36 ;  Stanley  reads,  in  the  wilds  of  Africa, 
252-255. 

Binnie,  Mr.,  engineer,  344,  345. 

Bismarck  summons  a  conference  on  the 
Congo  State,  33S,  339. 

Bonny,  William,  363,  364. 

Books,  Stanley's,  in  America,  97,  127; 
later  read  by  Stanley,  237,  240,  429,  432, 

433>  458>  459»  463>  475'  5°8- 
Bowles,  '  Tommy,'  478,  479. 
Braconnier,  346,  347. 
Brassey,  Lord,  501. 
Brazza,  M.  de,  336. 
Bruce,  A.  L.,  urges   Stanley  to  become   a 

candidate  for    Parliament,  439 ;    death 

of,   459;    Stanley's    affection   for,   459, 

460. 
Bryce,  James,  478. 
Brynford,  41. 
Buell,  General  D.  C,  on  the  battle  of  Shi- 

loh,  203  n. 
Burdett-Coutts,    the    Baroness  and    Mr., 

418. 
Burgevine,  General,  166. 
Burton,  Sir  Richard  F.,  423,  424. 

Campbell-Bannerman,  504. 

Camperio,  Captain,  424. 

Canterbury,  432,  433. 

Carnarvon,  Stanley's  reception  at,  431. 

Carnival,  the,  at  Odessa,  247. 

Casati,  424. 

Caucasus,  Stanley  in  the,  245. 

Cave  City,  in  camp  at,  179-185. 

Chamberlain,   the    Rt.    Hon.   Joseph,   on 


544 


INDEX 


the  slave-trade  in  Africa,  34411.;  as  a 
debater,  479 ;  on  South  Africa,  495 ;  as  a 
speaker,  503. 

Christopherson,  Albert,  345. 

Civil  War  in  America,  events  preceding, 
161-166;  Stanley's  part  in,  167-221 ;  why 
men  enlisted  for,  168 ;  Northern  view  of 
cause  of,  202. 

Cleveland,  President,  his  Venezuelan  mes- 
sage, 482. 

Clwyd,  Vale  of,  51. 

Coleman,  Mr.,  159. 

Columbus,  Ohio,  the  Gibraltar  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi, 175. 

Congo,  the,  traced  by  Stanley,  318-330; 
opened  up,  333-352. 

Congo  and  the  Founding  of  its  Free  State, 

334- 

Congo  State,  founding  the,  333-352,  399, 
400  ;  recognised  by  the  civilised  powers, 
338 ;  Stanley  on  the  government  of, 
536  ;  Stanley  on  the  value  of,  536. 

Cook,  W.  H.,  222-224. 

Coomassie,  229,  292,  293. 

Crete,  230. 

Cromer,  453. 

Cronin,  Mr.,  151— 153. 

Cypress  Grove,  1 51-166. 

Dalziell,  Mr.,  476. 

Darkest  Africa,  In,  411,  422. 

Davis,  Richard  Harding,  508. 

Death,  thoughts  on  the  fear  of,  522,  523. 

Degrees  conferred  on  Stanley,  424,  525. 

Denbigh,  219. 

Denbigh  Castle,  4-8. 

'  Dido,'  the  captain  of  the,  114. 

Dilke,  Sir  Charles,  473,  474,  477. 

Dillon,  John,  474,  476. 

Dixie  Greys,  the,  165,  166. 

Donnelly,  Ignatius,  Ccesar's  Column,  433. 

Douglas,  Camp,  205-214. 

East  African  Company,  446-449. 

East  Anglia,  450. 

Education,  thoughts  on,  523-525. 

Eisteddfod,  the,  14,  16,  430,  434. 

Ellison,  Mr.,  106,  112. 

Emin  Pasha,  calls  for  help,  353  ;  as  de- 
scribed by  Dr.  Felkin,  354;  discovered, 
361  ;  Stanley's  impression  of,  362 ;  a 
prisoner,  368;  deceived  by  his  officers, 


368 ;  goes  with  Stanley  to  the  coast, 
370-372  ;  has  a  fall  from  a  balcony,  372  ; 
engages  himself  to  the  Germans,  373, 
374;  death  of,  375. 
England,  and  Coomassie,  285-295 ;  back- 
wardness of,  in  founding  the  Congo 
State,  333,  3  4>  338>  4°6  ;  belittles  Stan- 
ley's work,  400 ;  in  East  Africa,  422 ;  and 
South  Africa,  487-500;  thoughts  on  re- 
turning to,  528 ;  changes  in,  in  forty  years, 

529'  530- 
Evangelides,  Christo,  230-236. 

Felkin,  Dr.  R.  W.,  his  picture  of  Emin, 

3S3>  354- 
Fetish,  the,  and  Ngalyema,  339-342. 
Ffynnon  Beuno,  42-47,  51-55. 
Fisher,  Fort,   Stanley   writes   account   of 

attack  on,  220,  221. 
Flamini,  Francois,  345. 
Foraging,  in  the  American  Civil  War,  180. 
Francis,  James,  12-16,  32-34. 
Furze  Hill,  506-514. 

Galton,  Sir  Francis,  286,  287. 

Garstin,  Sir  William,  on  the  importance  of 
Stanley's  discoveries,  404,  405. 

Genealogy,  3. 

Generalship,  American,  fault  of,  178. 

Germany,  in  East  Africa,  422. 

Ghost  stories,  8,  9. 

Gladstone,  W.  E.,  Stanley's  interview  with, 
419-421  ;  as  a  speaker,  479,  480. 

Goff,  Mr.,  65. 

Gordon,  General,  Stanley's  view  of  char- 
acter of,  338,  526;  massacre  of,  353; 
Stanley  on  death  of,  396,  397,  537,  538. 

Goree,  Dr.  and  Dan,  160,  162,  165,  169, 
170,  180. 

Grant,  Colonel  J.  A.,  death  of,  437,  438. 

Grant,  U.  S.,  on  the  battle  of  Shiloh,  203 ; 
Stanley's  opinion  of,  445. 

Greene,  Conyngham,  494. 

Grey,  Sir  George,  letter  of,  on  the  Emin 
Relief  Expedition,  378,  379;  events  of 
his  life,  379 ;  entertains  Stanley  at  Auck- 
land, 435;  Stanley's  opinion  of,  436;  let- 
ter of,  to  Stanley,  436,  437 ;  letter  of,  to 
Mrs.  Stanley  on  Stanley's  defeat  in  the 
Parliament  election,  442,  443  ;  on  place 
of  Stanley's  burial,  515,  516. 

Gully,  William  Court,  469-472. 


INDEX 


545 


Haldane,  Mr.,  474. 

Hancock,  General,  expedition  of,  against 
the  Kiowas  and  Comanches,  225-227. 

Happiness,  thoughts  on,  237,  238. 

Harcourt,  Sir  William,  473. 

Hardinge,  Captain  David,  67. 

Harman,  Rev.  Dr.,  246. 

Harry,  boy  on  board  the  '  Windermere,' 
70-72,  78,  79,  82-84. 

Hawthorn,  Colonel  A.  T.,  168. 

Healy,  Tim,  475,  477. 

Heaton,  Dick  (Alice),  107-111. 

Henderson,  Senator,  226,  227. 

Hills-Johnes,  Sir  James  and  Lady,  hosts 
to  Stanley,  464. 

Hindman,  General  T.  C,  203,  204. 

Holywell,  John,  28. 

Houldsworth,  Sir  William,  476. 

House  of  Commons,  Stanley  becomes  can- 
didate for,  but  is  defeated,  439  ;  becomes 
a  second  time  candidate,  and  is  elected, 
439-445,  466  ;  Stanley's  impressions  of, 
467-481,  501-505. 

Hubbard,  Mr.,  158,  161. 

Illusions,  thoughts  on,  523. 
Indians,  American,  the,  225-227. 
Ingham,  Major,   Stanley's    meeting  with, 

142;  takes  Stanley  home  with  him,  146; 

life  on  his  plantation,  146-150. 
Ingham,  Mrs.  Annie,  death  of,  445. 
Ingham,  C.  E.,  death  of,  463. 
International   African    Association,  334- 

338. 
Isangila,  335. 

James,  Lord,  of  Hereford,  483. 

Jameson,  Dr.,  his  invasion  of  the  Trans- 
vaal, 482,  483. 

Jameson,  Mr.,  354. 

Jephson,  Mounteney,  joins  Stanley's  ex- 
pedition for  the  rescue  of  Emin,  354; 
sent  by  Stanley  to  search  for  Emin, 
360,  361 ;  a  prisoner,  368 ;  Stanley's  char- 
acterisation of,  382  ;  sufferings  of,  387  ; 
carries  succour  to  Nelson,  390 ;  accom- 
panies Stanley  to  Ostend,  434 ;  Stanley 
in  last  sickness  talks  of,  515. 

Jerusalem,  Stanley  at,  245. 

Johnston,  General  A.  S.,  185,  199. 

Journalism,  Stanley's  career  in,  220-250, 
291-295. 


Kennicy,  Mr.,  89,  91,  101,  102. 
Khartoum,  massacre  of  Gordon's  forces  at, 
353  ;  how  Stanley  would  have  acted  at, 

537- 

Kimber,  Mr.,  469,  470. 

Kitchen,  J.  D.,  101-106,  121. 

Kriiger,    President,    Stanley's   description 

of,  489-499 ;  his  ultimatum,  503,  504. 
Kumishah,  248. 

Ladysmith,  Stanley  on  its  position  as  a 
camp,  499,  500. 

Learning,  thoughts  on,  525. 

Lee,  Mr.,  nephew  of  General  Lee,  165,  169. 

Lee,  General  Robert  E.,  Stanley's  opinion 
of,  445. 

Leopold,  King,  of  Belgium,  interested  in 
the  opening  up  of  Africa,  334,  338  ;  dis- 
cusses African  affairs  with  Stanley,  412- 
417  ;  concludes  treaty  with  English  Gov- 
ernment, 418;  Stanley  the  guest  of,  at 
Ostend,  424;  invites  Stanley  to  Ostend, 

434- 

Leopoldville,  336. 

Liverpool,  Stanley's  life  at,  56-68. 

Livingstone,  Stanley  goes  to  Aden  to  meet, 
237  ;  Stanley  is  commissioned  to  search 
for,  245;  reported  character  of,  250; 
Stanley  in  search  of,  251-263;  found, 
263-267 ;  why  he  did  not  return  of  his 
own  accord,  267-272  ;  leaves  Ujiji,  273  ; 
character  of,  273-278,  281-284,  526; 
Stanley's  parting  from,  279,  280;  death 
of,  280 ;  feelings  of  Stanley  at  news  of 
his  death,  295,  296;  letters  of,  to  Sir 
George  Grey,  435. 

Llys,  the,  40. 

Loafers,  thoughts  on,  530. 

Long  Hart,  72. 

Low,  Sidney,  his  article  on  Stanley's  Afri- 
can explorations,  392-404 ;  poem  of, 
on  Stanley,  539. 

Lowell,  J.  R,  Letters  of,  458,  459,  461. 

Lualaba,  the,  318-330.    See  Congo. 

Lyall,  Sir  Alfred,  Stanley  presides  at  lec- 
ture of,  501. 

Lyons,  Colonel,  168. 

Machiavelli,  463,  464. 
Mackay,  A.  M.,  406. 

Mackinnon,  Sir  William,  patronises  the 
Emin  Relief  Expedition,  354;  and  the 


546 


INDEX 


East  African  Company,  446-449 ;  death 

and  funeral  of,  446,  449 ;  remarks  on, 

459,  460. 
Malone,  Tom,  169,  180. 
Mason,  Penny,  165,  169. 
Manyanga,  335. 
Marks,  Mr.,  489,  494. 
Matabele  War,  454,  455. 
McKenna,  Mr.,  478. 
Melchet  Court,  423,  428. 
Milligan,  Colonel  James  A.,  205. 
Milner,  Sir  Alfred,  on  South  Africa,  495. 
Milton,  John,  526. 

Mind  and  soul,  thoughts  on,  521,  522. 
Mirambo,  257,  258. 
Mississippi  River,  115-117,  125. 
Moon,  Mountains  of  the,  371. 
Morris,  Edward  Joy,  223,  245. 
Morris,   Maria,   aunt    of    Stanley,   55,   57, 

62-68. 
Morris,  Tom,  uncle  of  Stanley,  58-68. 
Mose,  boyhood  friend  of  Stanley,  34-40. 
Mtesa,  311-313,  317,  3l8>  405- 
Murchison,  Sir  Roderick,  267,  282. 
My  Early  Travels  and  Adventures,  225, 

245- 
Myers,  F.  W.  H.,  quoted,  289. 

Napier,  Sir  Robert,  229. 

National  School  at  Brynford,  44,  47-51. 

Nelson,  mate  on  board  the  '  Winder- 
mere,' 70,  75,  76,  80. 

Nelson,  Captain,  354,  383,  387,  390. 

New  Orleans,  Stanley's  life  at,  81-125; 
later  visit  to,  426,  427. 

New  York,  Stanley's  impressions  of,  425. 

New  York  Herald,  Stanley  becomes  cor- 
respondent of,  228-230. 

New  Zealand,  Stanley  visits,  434-437. 

Newspapers,  Stanley  reads,  in  the  wilds 
of  Africa,  252-255  ;  the  scavenger- 
beetles  of,  288 ;  thoughts  on  reading  the, 

527- 
Ngalyema  and  the  fetish,  339-342. 
Nile,  the,  Stanley's  discoveries  regarding 

the  sources  of,  301,  371,  405. 
North-Welsh,  the,  52. 
Norwich,  452. 

Odessa,  Stanley  at,  247. 

O'Kelly,  James  J.,  468,  469,  471,  472. 

Owen,  Hicks,  18. 


Owen,  Mary,  aunt  of  Stanlev,  42-57,  207, 

208. 
Owen,  Moses,  41-51. 

Parke,  Surgeon,  joins  the  expedition  for 
the  rescue  of  Emin,  354 ;  on  the  march, 
360,  373;  his  journal  of  the  expedition, 
378,  436,  437  ;  Stanley's  opinion  of,  381, 
382,  390;  accompanies  Stanley  to  Mel- 
chet Court,  423  ;  death  of,  459,  460. 

Parker,  Henry,  187,  188,  193. 

Parkinson,  John,  58. 

Parkinson,  Mary,  58. 

Parliament.  See  House  of  Commons. 

Parry,  Moses,  grandfather  of  Stanley, 
6-8. 

Pasargadas,  ruins  of,  248. 

Peace  Commission  to  the  Indians,  225- 
227. 

Persepolis,  249. 

Phillpots,  Mr.,  458. 

Pickersgill,  Mr.,  476. 

Pigmies,  365-367. 

Platte  River,  222. 

Pocock,  Francis  and  Edward,  298,  300, 
301,  321,  329. 

Portugal,  in  Africa,  338. 

Prayer,  thoughts  on  the  efficacy  of,  518— 
520. 

Price,  Dick,  10. 

Price,  Richard  and  Jenny,  8-10. 

Price,  Sarah,  8-10. 

Provincialism,  155. 

Rawlinson,  Sir  Henry,  286,  289. 
Reading,  Mr.  Stanley  the  elder  instructs 

Stanley  in,  127. 
Recreation,  real,  thoughts  on,  52 5,  526. 
Redmond,  John,  474. 
Religion,  thoughts  on,  517-519. 
Religious   convictions,  of  Stanley  when  a 

boy,  23-28 ;  of  the  elder  Mr.  Stanley, 

I33-I37- 
Religious  education,  thoughts  on,  521. 
Reviews  and  reviewers,  thoughts  on,  526, 

527- 
Rhodes,  Cecil,  455. 
Rhuddlan  Eisteddfod,  14,  16. 
Richardson,  Mr.,  89-121. 
Roberts,  Lord,  464. 
Roberts,  Willie,  22,  23. 
Robertson,  Mr.,  472,  473. 


INDEX 


547 


Robinson,  Rev.  Joseph  A.,  refuses  to 
allow  Stanley  to  be  buried  in  Westmin- 
ster Abbey,  515. 

Rowlands,  John,  Stanley's  real  name.  See 
Stanley,  Henry  Morton. 

Rowlands,  John,  Stanley's  grandfather, 
38-40. 

Runciman,  Mr.,  523  n. 

Ruwenzori  Mountains.  See  Moon,  Moun- 
tains of  the. 

St.  Asaph  Union  Workhouse,  10-34. 

St.  Louis,  115,  116. 

Salisbury.  Lord,  accuses  Stanley  of  having 
interests  in  Africa,  408  ;  as  an  orator, 
445,  446,  465. 

Sandford,  General,  338. 

Saragossa,  fighting  at,  241-243. 

Saunderson,  Colonel,  489. 

Scheabeddin,  quoted,  371. 

Schnitzer,  Edouard.    See  Emin  Pasha. 

Seton-Karr,  Mr.,  474. 

Sherman,  General  W.  T.,  226,  227,  426. 

Shiloh,  186-204. 

Shipman,  Mr.,  205,  206,  212,  213. 

Short,  Bishop  Vowler,  17,  30. 

Slate,  James  M.,  169,  180,  204. 

Slave-trade  in  Africa,  344,  407,  413,  4*9- 
422,  457- 

Smalley,  Mr.,  17. 

Smith,  Parker,  478,  480. 

Smith,  Captain   S.  G.,  165,  168,  188,  189. 

Socialism,  thoughts  on,  530. 

Soldiering,  167-215. 

Solomon's  Throne,  248. 

Soul  and  mind,  thoughts  on,  521,  522. 

Spain,  Stanley  in,  240-244. 

Speake,  James,  89,  102-105,  121. 

Speake,  Mrs.,  105,  106. 

Speke,  Mr.,  435,  462. 

Stairs,  Lieutenant,  354,  360'  38l»  39°- 

Stanley,  Denzil,  Stanley's  son,  483,  485, 
4S6. 

Stanley,  Henry  Morton,  his  progenitors, 
3,  4  ;  dawn  of  consciousness,  4  ;  earliest 
recollections,  4-7  ;  his  grandfather,  7,  8 ; 
at  the  Prices',  8-10;  taken  to  the  Work 
house,  10;  his  first  flogging,  13,  14;  his 
second  memorable  whipping,  14,  15; 
life  at  the  school,  16-22  ;  his  feelings  at 
the  death  of  Willie  Roberts,  22,  23  ;  his 
religious  convictions,  23-28;  his  meet- 


ing with  his  mother,  28,  29 ;  the  most 
advanced  pupil,  30 ;  his  personal  ap- 
pearance, 30 ;  acts  as  deputy  over  the 
school,  31  ;  his  struggle  with  Francis 
and  flight  from  the  Workhouse,  32-34  ; 
adventures  after  leaving  the  Workhouse, 
35—37  ;  visits  Denbigh  and  learns  of  his 
relatives,  37-40 ;  calls  on  his  grand- 
father, John  Rowlands,  40  ;  engaged  as 
pupil-teacher,  41  ;  visits  his  aunt,  Mary 
Owen,  42-47  ;  at  the  National  School  at 
Brynford,  47-51  ;  returns  to  Ffynnon 
Beuno,  51  ;  life  at  Ffynnon  Beuno,  51- 
55  ;  leaves  Ffynnon  Beuno,  55  ;  sadness 
at  departure,  56 ;  arrival  at  Liverpool, 
56-59 ;  visits  Mr.  Winter,  60  ;  employed 
at  a  haberdasher's,  62 ;  about  the 
docks,  64  ;  employed  at  a  butcher's,  65  ; 
ships  as  cabin-boy,  67  ;  sails  for  New 
Orleans,  68  ;  on  board  the  '  Winder- 
mere,' 69-81. 

Arrival   at    New    Orleans,   81  ;  first 
night    in    New   Orleans,  82-84  5  leaves 
the  '  Windermere,'  84,  85  ;  seeks  work 
in    New  Orleans,   86-89;  first  meeting 
with  Mr.  Stanley  the  elder,  87-90  ;  taken 
on  trial,  89  ;  in  his  new  position,  90-93 ; 
permanently  engaged,  93  ;  his  new  feel- 
ing of  independence,  94-96 ;  his  affection 
for  New  Orleans,  96  ;  on  the  moral  cour- 
age to  say  '  No,'  96 ;  books  read  at  this 
period,    97,    98;    takes    breakfast   with 
Mr.   Stanley,  98-100;  his  acquaintance 
with  the  Stanleys,  100,  101 ;  his  salary 
increased,  101  ;  his  discovery  of  a  theft 
in  the   business  house,    102-104;    Mr. 
Stanley's  gift  of  books  to,  105  ;  watches 
the  body  of  Mr.  Speake,  105,  106 ;  ad- 
venture with  Dick  (Alice)  Heaton,  107- 
iii  ;  discharged  from  Ellison  and  Mc- 
Millan's, 106 ;  his  account  of  the  death 
of   Mrs.  Stanley,  111-113;  attends  the 
captain    of    the   'Dido,'    114;     leaves 
New  Orleans,   115;  goes  to  St.  Louis, 
115;  returns  to  New  Orleans,  11 6-1 18  ; 
taken  under  the  charge  of  Mr.  Stanley 
and  given  his  name,   1 18-125;  travels 
with  Mr.   Stanley,   125;  his  mental  ac- 
quisitiveness   and    memory,    126;     his 
judgement    a    thing  of    growth,    126; 
studies  and  reads  with  Mr.  Stanley,  127  ; 
profits  by  the  moral  instruction  of  Mr. 


54« 


INDEX 


Stanley,  128-133,  137-139;  the  religious 
views  taught  him  by  Mr.  Stanley,  133- 
137;  further  education  at  the  hands  of 
Mr.  Stanley,  140 ;  his  personal  appear- 
ance, 140;  his  last  parting  with  Mr. 
Stanley,  142-145;  receives  aletterfrom 
Mr.  Stanley,  145,  146 ;  on  Major  Ing- 
ham's plantation,  146-150;  at  Mr. 
Waring's,  150;  walks  to  the  Arkansas 
River,  150,  151;  at  Mr.  Altschul's  store, 
151-161  ;  learns  of  the  death  of  Mr. 
Stanley,  161  ;  hears  of  events  preceding 
the  Civil  War,  161-166. 

Enlists,  166  ;  his  enlistment  a  blunder, 
167  ;  his  mess,  169;  on  the  march,  171- 
175;  witnesses  the  battle  of  Belmont, 
175;  campaigning,  175-179;  in  camp 
at  Cave  City,  179;  foraging,  179-185; 
transferred  to  Corinth,  185  ;  at  the  battle 
of  Shiloh,  186-203;  made  a  prisoner, 
200;  taken  to  the  rear,  200-203;  pris- 
oner of  war,  205-214;  vision  of  Aunt 
Mary,  207,  208 ;  enrolled  in  the  U.  S. 
Service,  214;  has  the  prison  disease 
and  is  discharged,  214,  219;  events  fol- 
lowing his  discharge,  214,  215,  219. 

Arrives  at  Liverpool,  219;  visits  his 
mother's  house  and  his  reception,  219; 
returns  to  America  and  joins  the  mer- 
chant service,  220;  enlists  in  United 
States  Navy  and  is  ship's  writer,  220 ; 
writes  account  of  attack  on  Fort  Fisher, 
.220,  221 ;  wanders  about  America,  221 ; 
stage  and  press,  221,  222;  floats  down 
'the  Platte  River,  222 ;  goes  to  Asia 
(Stanley-Cook  exploration),  223,  224 ; 
joins  General  Hancock's  expedition 
against  the  Indians,  and  accompanies 
the  Peace  Commission  to  the  Indians 
as  correspondent,  225-227  ;  his  earn- 
ings, 227 ;  becomes  correspondent  of 
the  New  York  Herald,  228  ;  reports  the 
Abyssinian  expedition,  229,  230 ;  goes 
to  Crete,  230;  the  Virginia  episode  at 
Island  of  Syra,  230-236;  his  further 
travels,  237 ;  goes  to  Aden  to  meet 
Livingstone,  237;  his  thoughts  on  hap- 
piness, 237,  238;  on  slanderous  gossip, 
239;  on  change  from  boy  to  man,  240; 
in  Spain,  240-244;  his  application  to 
duty,  243,  244. 

Is  commissioned  by  Mr.  Bennett  to 


search  for  Livingstone,  245;  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  Suez  Canal,  245  ;  in  Egypt, 
at  Jerusalem,  at  Constantinople,  and  in 
the  Caucasus,  245,  246 ;  on  Rev.  Dr. 
Harman,  246;  sees  the  Carnival  at 
Odessa,  247 ;  in  the  East,  247-249 ;  ar- 
rives at  Zanzibar,  250;  starts  from 
Zanzibar  in  search  of  Livingstone,  251, 
252 ;  reads  Bible  and  newspapers  in 
wilds  of  Africa,  252-255;  his  feeling  of 
tranquillity  when  in  Africa,  255 ;  his 
ideas  on  being  good-tempered  in  Africa, 
256;  in  Ugogo,  256;  in  Unyanyembe, 
257,  258  ;  hears  of  a  grey-bearded  man, 
2 59  J  Pays  heavy  tribute  to  the  natives, 
259,  260;  sees  Lake  Tanganyika,  261, 
262 ;  arrives  at  Ujiji,  262  ;  finds  Living- 
stone, 263-267  ;  tells  why  Livingstone 
did  not  return  of  his  own  accord,  267- 
272  ;  leaves  Ujiji,  273  ;  his  observations 
on  Livingstone's  character,  273-278, 
281-284;  his  parting  from  Livingstone, 
279,  280 ;  his  return  home,  286. 

Speaks  before  societies,  286,  287; 
hostility  to,  286-289  ;  received  by  Queen 
Victoria,  289-291 ;  lectures  in  England 
and  America,  291  ;  accorriDanies  cam- 
paign against  the  Ashantees,  291-295  ; 
on  Lord  Wolseley,  294;  Lord  Wolseley 
on,  294  ;  feelings  at  news  of  death  of 
Livingstone,  295,  296;  conception  of 
plan  to  explore  Africa,  295-298. 

Makes  preparations  in  Zanzibar,  298, 
299 ;  proceeds  inland,  299-301  ;  his 
camp  attacked,  302-304  ;  arrives  at  the 
Victoria  Nyanza,  305  ;  circumnavigates 
the  Victoria  Nyanza  and  Lake  Tan- 
ganyika, 305-319;  traces  the  Lualaba 
(Congo),  318-330;  aims  to  introduce 
civilisation  into  Africa,  233^  334 1  his 
work  of  opening  up  the  Congo,  335-339  ; 
and  Ngalyema,  339-342  ;  his  manner  of 
dealing  with  the  natives,  342-346;  and 
his  subordinates,  344-351  ;  his  answer 
to  those  who  regarded  him  as  '  hard,' 
346-35 1;  his  virility  of  purpose,  351; 
called  '  Breaker  of  Rocks,'  352. 

Undertakes  to  lead  the  Emin  Relief 
Expedition,  354 ;  starts  on  the  expedi- 
tion, 355  ;  forms  Advance  Column,  355, 
356;  on  the  march,  356-359;  reaches 
the  Albert  Nyanza,   359 ;  constructs  a 


INDEX 


549 


fort  at  Ibwiri,  360;  discovers  Emin, 
361  ;  his  impression  of  Emin,  362 ;  goes 
in  search  of  the  Rear-Column,  362;  his 
discovery  of  the  Rear-Column,  363,  364  ; 
returns  to  Fort  Bodo,  364-367  ;  returns 
to  the  Albert  Nyanza,  367  ;  commences 
homeward  journey,  370;  discovers  the 
Albert  Edward  Nyanza,  370,  371  i  sees 
the  Mountains  of  the  Moon,  371  ; 
reaches  the  Indian  Ocean,  372  ;  enlight- 
ened as  to  the  true  character  of  Emin, 
373,  374  ;  results  of  his  expedition,  375  ; 
his  letter  on  the  conduct  of  Englishmen 
in  Africa,  376,  377;  sir  George  Grey's 
letter  on  his  work  on  the  Relief  Expedi- 
tion, 378,  379- 

Expects  implicit  obedience  from  his 
subordinates,   380;  his   descriptions    of 
his  subordinates,  381-383;  lives  alone 
while  in  Africa,  383,  384,  386 ;  on  the 
white  man  in  Africa,  384,  385  ;  accused 
of    being    'hard,'  385;  his  manner   of 
life    while     in     Africa,    386-388;    his 
thoughts     while    in    Africa,   388,   389; 
Low's  estimate   of  his  work  in  Africa, 
392-404;    on    his    intellectual    power, 
396,  397  ;  a  leader  of  men,  397  ;  on  the 
criticisms    of    his    methods,    398;   his 
character,    399,  402,   403;  his  religious 
beliefs,    399;  as   an  administrator    and 
organiser,  399,  400 ;  effects  on  his  health 
of  the    Emin    Expedition,   401 ;  in  the 
last  fourteen  years  of  his  life,  401,  402 ; 
his  personal  appearance,  402 ;  Sir  Wil- 
liam   Garstin's    estimate  of  the  impor- 
tance of  his  discoveries,  404,  405 ;  his 
master -passion,  that  of  a  civiliser,  not  of 
a  discoverer,  405-407  i  nad  no  pecuniary 
interest  in  Africa,  407,  408. 

On  the  charm  of  the  Great  Forest, 
409  ;  his  return  to  civilisation,  409,  410; 
writes  his  book,  In  Darkest  Africa,  41 1, 
412;  goes  to  Brussels  and  is  received 
by  the  King  of  Belgium,  412;  Grand 
Crosses  conferred  on  him,  412;  dis- 
cusses African  affairs  with  the  King  of 
Belgium,  413-417;  arrives  in  England, 
418 ;  his  reception  in  England,  419  ;  his 
interview  with  Gladstone,  419-421 ;  his 
refutation  of  the  charge  that  he  used 
slaves,  421,  422;  In  Darkest  Africa 
published,  422  ;  stirs  up  societies  to  see 


that  Germany  does  not  absorb  too  much 
of    East    Africa,    422;    married,    423; 
meets    Sir    Richard   F.    Burton  in  the 
Engadine,    423;    meets    Camperio  and 
Casati,  424 ;  the  guest  of  King  Leopold 
at    Ostend,    424;    given    degrees,    424, 
425  ;  visits  America  on  a  lecturing  tour, 
425  ;  travels  over  the  United  States  and 
Canada,  425-428;  dines    at   the  Press 
Club,  New  York,  426 ;  newspaper  com- 
ments on  his  personal  appearance,  426  ; 
visits  New  Orleans,  426,  427;  feels  lack' 
of  freedom,  427,  428 ;  returns  to   Eng- 
land,   428;  lectures   in    England,    429; 
longs    for  rest,  429,  432;    his  reading, 
429;  on  the  Welsh  language,  430;  his 
reception  at  Carnarvon,  431  ;  on  Canter- 
bury, 432,  433;  visits  Switzerland,  433; 
breaks  his  ankle,  434 ;  visits  King  Leo- 
pold at  Ostend,  434 ;  his  visit  to  Aus- 
tralia, etc.,  434-438;  letter  to>  from  Sir 
George  Grey,  436,  437. 

Consents    to    become    candidate    for 
Parliament,    439;    defeated,    439!    hls 
speeches  on  second  candidacy,  440-442  ; 
his  disgust  at   electioneering   methods, 
443,    444;    on    Beauregard.    Lee,   and 
Grant,  445 ;  on  Mackinnon  and  the  East 
African    Company,   446-449;    on    East 
Anglia   and    Yarmouth,    45°-452  i    on 
Norwich,  452  ;  his  enjoyment  of  solitude 
by  the  sea,  453  ;  on  the  Matabele  War, 
454,  455;  on  a  coal-strike,  455;  on  W. 
T.  Stead,  455,  456;  on  the  destruction 
of  the  slave-trade  in  Africa,  457,  458  \ 
on  Lowell's  Letters,  458,  459,  461  ;  on 
A.  L.  Bruce,  459,   460  ;  on   Sir  S.  W. 
Baker,  462,  463;    goes  to  the  Isle   of 
Wight,  463;  at  the  Hills-Johnes',  464; 
begins  his  Autobiography,  465  ;  elected 
to  Parliament,  466,   467  ;  first   impres- 
sions of  the   House,  467-472  i  impres- 
sions of  the  speakers,  472-476;  on  ob- 
structive  tactics,  476,   477 !    gives    his 
maiden  speech,  478-4S0 ;  on  the  Vene- 
zuelan affair,  482 ;  his  love  for  his  son, 
483,  485,  486 ;  frequently  ill  from  malaria 
and  gastritis,  483-485. 

Leaves  for  South  Africa,  485;  his 
views  on  South  African  affairs,  486-489  ; 
his  description  of  Kriiger,  489-499  5 
feels  contempt  for  England  for  not  act- 


550 


INDEX 


ing  with  more  decision  in  South  Africa, 
469-499 ;  on  Ladysmith  as  a  camp, 
499,  500 ;  presides  at  Lyall's  lecture, 
501 ;  views  of  England's  lack  of  decisive- 
ness, 501 ;  disgusted  with  the  Parlia- 
mentary methods,  502,  504,  505  ;  on  the 
speakers,  503  ;  on  South  African  affairs, 
503,  504;  has  little  influence  in  Parlia- 
ment, 504,  505;  leaves  Parliament,  505; 
looks  for  a  house  in  the  country,  506 ; 
buys  Furze  Hill,  506,  507 ;  life  at  Furze 
Hill,  507,  50S;  created  G.  C.  B.,  508; 
how  he  was  misunderstood,  508,  509 ; 
his  story  of  the  little  black  baby,  509 ; 
other  baby  stories,  510,  511  ;  his  repairs 
at  Furze  Hill,  512,  513;  sickness  and 
last  days,  513-515;  death,  515;  buried 
atPirbright,  Surrey,  515  ;  his  headstone, 
516. 

Thoughts  on  religion,  517,  518;  on 
the  influence  of  religion,  518,  519;  on 
prayer,  519,  520  ;  on  religious  education, 
521  ;  on  Arnold's  Light  of  the  World, 
521;  on  mind  and  soul,  521,  522;  on 
the  fear  of  death,  522,  523  ;  on  illu- 
sions, 523 ;  on  the  training  of  young 
men,  and  education,  523-525 ;  on 
learning,  525;  on  real  recreation,  525, 
526 ;  on  reviews  and  reviewers,  526, 
527 ;  on  reading  the  newspapers,  527 ; 
on  returning  to  England,  528 ;  on  the 
England  of  forty  years  ago,  529,  530; 
on  socialism,  530 ;  on  loafers,  530;  on 
the  cry  of  '  Wales  for  the  Welsh,'  530, 
531 ;  on  starting  on  an  expedition,  532  ; 
on  the  pleasures  of  travelling  in  Africa, 
532-535 ;  on  returning  from  an  expedi- 
tion, 535  ;  on  the  government  of  the 
Congo,  536;  on  the  value  of  the  Congo 
and  British  East  Africa,  536;  on  Gen- 
eral Gordon,  537,  538. 

Poem  of  Sidney  Low  on,  539. 

Stanley,  Lady,  her  marriage  to  Stanley,  423 ; 
urges  Stanley  to  become  candidate  for 
Parliament,  439 ;  letter  to,  from  Sir 
George  Grey,  on  Stanley's  defeat  for  elec- 
tion to  Parliament,  442,  443  ;  *  nurses  ' 
North  Lambeth,  445  ;  watches  for  signal 
of  Stanley's  election  to  Parliament,  466, 
467  ;  during  the  last  days  of  Stanley, 
512-516. 

Stanley,  Mr.,  of  New  Orleans,   Stanley's 


first  meeting  with,  87-90  ;  Stanley  visits, 
98-101  ;  visits  Stanley,  104;  his  gift  of 
books  to  Stanley,  105;  Stanley's  affec- 
tion for,  118;  charges  himself  with  Stan- 
ley's future,  and  gives  Stanley  his  name, 
1 18-125;  Stanley  travels  with,  125; 
teaches  Stanley  how  to  read,  127 ;  gives 
moral  instruction  to  Stanley,  128-133, 
I37~l39>  nis  religious  views,  133-137; 
the  further  education  he  gives  Stanley, 
140 ;  his  adventure  with  a  thief,  141  ; 
his  last  parting  with  Stanley,  142-144; 
sends  a  letter  to  Stanley,  145,  146;  death 
of,  161. 

Stanley,  Mrs.,  of  New  Orleans,  99-101, 
111-113. 

Stanley-Cook  exploration  in  Asia,  223, 
224. 

Stanley  Falls,  326. 

Stanley  Pool,  329,  336. 

Stead,  W.  T.,  455,  456. 

Story,    Newton,   156,   165,    169,   170,  180, 

*93- 
Suez  Canal,  opening  of,  245. 
Swinburne,  A.  B.,  345. 
Syra,  Island  of,  230-236. 

Talbot,  A.,  456,  458. 

Tanganyika,  Lake,  261,  262,  318,  319. 

Tanner,  Dr.,  468,  469,  473~475- 

Tasmania,  Stanley  visits,  434,  437,  438. 

'Tay-Pay,'475,  47^. 

Taylor,  Commissioner,  227. 

Teheran,  247. 

Tennant,    Dorothy,   married   to    Stanley, 

423.    See  Stanley,  Lady. 
Theodore,  King,  229,  230. 
Thomas,  Captain  Leigh,  17. 
Tiflis,  246. 

Tippu-Tib,  3i9-325>  364- 
Tomasson,  169,  180,  184. 
Tremeirchion,  42,51. 

Uganda,  309-313,  405. 
Uganda  Mission,  318. 
Uhha,  259,  260. 
Ujiji,  262. 

Valencia,  Stanley  at,  243. 
Vasari,  his  Machiavelli,  463. 
Venezuela,  and  President  Cleveland's  mes- 
sage, 482. 


INDEX 


55i 


Victoria,  Queen,  receives    Stanley,    289- 

291. 
Victoria  Nyanza,  the,  305-317,  319. 
Vivi,  335. 

Waldron,  Mr.,  151,  153. 

1  Wales    for  the    Welsh,'  on   the  cry  of, 

530.  531. 
Waring,  Mr.,  150. 
Washita  River,  146. 
Waters,  Mr.,  71,  77,  79,  80. 
Webb,  Mrs.,  464. 
Wellcome,  Henry,  514,  515. 
Welsh  language,  Stanley's  views  of,  430. 


Wilkes,  W.  H.,  206. 

Williams,  Mrs.,  92. 

'  Windermere,'  the,  67-81. 

Winter,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  60,  61. 

Winton,  Sir  Francis  de,  338,  419. 

Wolseley,  Lord,  on  Coomassie,  293  ;  on 

Stanley,  294. 
Workhouse,  St.  Asaph  Union,  10-34. 
Worsfold,    Basil,    on    Sir   George    Grey, 

379- 

Yarmouth,  450-452. 
Zanzibar,  250,  251,  280,  298. 


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